


Pages in a Book

by mimiplaysgames



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Bad First Kisses, Best Friends, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Letters, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Post-Canon, Post-Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Terraqua Week (Kingdom Hearts), accidental confessions, and everything in between, post-kh3, there is a mix of fluff and angst, y'all know my style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimiplaysgames/pseuds/mimiplaysgames
Summary: A marriage proposal gone wrong. Secret letters from their father-figure. Nightmares that turn into dreams. Stealing nights away for time alone. Explosive confessions and tender forgiveness.  Feeling brave enough to dance with her. A photo album of their greatest enemy during his childhood.Life after the Keyblade War has its trials and conquests, but their bond endures through the best and worst of days.Prompts for Terraqua Week 2019.





	1. dammit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A marriage proposal is hard enough - if only Terra didn't accidentally text his plans to Aqua.
> 
> For the #gummiphone prompt.

Some say facing your biggest fears is like jumping off a cliff - the hardest part is taking that first step, and the momentum will carry you the rest of the way. But who would be crazy enough to do that?

Terra needs a more suitable analogy for his situation. Proposing to someone is kind of a big deal, after all.

Better yet, he’s forging the ring for her. Normally, she’s the creative prowess considering her skill at handling metal; the Wayfinder taking residence in his pocket is proof of that. 

Of course, he can’t ask her for help, he can’t let her know. He has alibis to hide what he’s doing. Every time they come to Disney Town, he tucks himself away at the blacksmith’s while she runs off to spend her time mixing potions in case anything happens - including any rowdy occurrences where Keyblades are simply too slow for what needs to be done (she’ll crack a smile and tell him that if he ever gets possessed again, she’ll just poison him to spare herself the trouble, which is fair).

The blacksmith’s is a good cover, since he’s been putting his knowledge of Keyblade armor to good use. Whenever she’s around, she’ll see Riku’s prototype hanging by the furnace. A ring is much easier to hide.

Well, it’s not yet a ring. It’s mostly a _plan_, Naminé’s crayon-filled blueprints in display on the workbench by his side - a mix of the tiniest sapphires imaginable, because something too flashy just won’t suit Aqua very well (even though she fights fancy).

He has his tools: his face shield, pliers, a torch, a drill, refined silver. Disciplining a hard element such as metal is soothing in a way, reminding him that he can accomplish anything if he puts his mind to it. To see the silver bend to his will, like it’s learning to be proper, is as rewarding as a teacher seeing his student succeed. 

It’s tedious work, perfect for getting in the zone. Welding shields and weapons, and mining for jewels, tests the body, but it passes. It’s not so bad to endure once the work starts.

The _idea_ of marrying her came to him as easily as breathing. Of course he wants her by his side. He wants to wake up next to her every morning. It hurts when she has to leave; it heals when she comes back. Most of all, he will never tire of her smile. Never. 

_Asking_ her to marry him however…

At least with making her ring - making sure the band is smooth and perfect, that the sapphires are placed correctly, that the designs are crisp - he could get lost in the flow and not have to think about his greatest adversary: whether she will say yes or no. 

Well, he _could_ get deeply engrossed and forget about the rest of the world if that stupid Gummiphone would just shut up. 

“I’ve barely started,” he groans. 

It replies by ringing again, more texts. There’s no one out there who would try to contact him this much except for Ven.

“You’ll just have to wait.”

It rings again and Terra grunts, loud enough to be a warning even though the phone isn’t sentient and can’t get the message.

It still won’t stop. 

“I hate this thing,” he mutters to himself as he finally gets up and checks it. Surely he misses the days where friends just visited each other. The phone is very impersonal, and it keeps him connected _all the damn time_ and how in the world can anyone focus this way? The keys on the screen are too small for his big thumbs to type in and it’s especially annoying when it’s late at night. 

The perpetrator is indeed Ventus, so distracting that Terra left behind a rod of silver with a sawed curve at the end. He hasn’t even begun the soldering.

Already a flood of texts fill the phone’s screen.

**Ven** _  
Have you started working on it? ^^_

**Ven** _  
I wanna see! Take a pic :)_

**Ven** _  
#pleaserespond_

**Ven** _  
Please? ;-;_

**Ven** _  
YOU’RE STALLING D:<_

“I don’t know how to take a picture,” he says to the phone.

If there’s anything that’s more overwhelming, it’s managing this dumb thing with the endless list of icons he has to scroll through just to find what he has to do. 

Before he can really investigate, Ventus calls.

Terra brings it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Come on,” he whines on the receiver. 

“I’m trying to, I just don’t understand how to use this stupid thing.”

“Just click on the camera app,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Terra checks the screen, but it’s all black, Ven’s name stretched across the top and the menu completely gone. Of course. He brings it back to his ear. “It’s gone.”

“No it isn’t, you oaf.”

What a tongue. A couple of months in the outside world and suddenly Ventus thinks he can take on anything bigger than him. “You’re spending way too much time with Lea.”

“Look,” Ven starts - which is a strange thing to say, he can’t see what Terra is doing. “Just click the button on the bottom of the phone - _not_ the red one on the screen or it will hang me up.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He’s beginning to regret even telling Ven about the ring.

Terra does as he’s instructed, the black screen swiped away, sending him back to the menu. Ven’s voice yaps to himself through the earpiece - Terra has found the camera and is already taking snaps of his (interrupted) work.

“Hang on, Ven, I’m working on it.”

“WAIT A MINUTE, I CAN’T HEAR YOU. YOU NEED TO PUT ME ON SPEAKER.”

Honestly, the thought of Ventus screaming at a piece of junk pulls a smirk on Terra’s face ever so slightly. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“WHAT?”

“Wait for it.” Terra says into the mouthpiece, hanging him up. It’s easier to stay focused this way. 

He wonders what he should title the text message with the photo. He starts with _‘aquas ring’_ but it sounds weird - Ven already knows what it is - so he deletes it.

Just figuring out how to attach the photo is annoying enough. There’s so many better things to learn.

**Me** _  
happy now_

Send.

That should be enough, and he immediately sits back down to continue, assuming that Ven will take the time to gush over it.

But Ven calls again.

“Yes?” 

“You’re ignoring me.” This time he’s serious.

“I sent it.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Maybe it takes time?”

“It’s taking too long.” 

Ventus used to have the greatest patience in the world, always being left behind in the academy. Now after everything that’s happened, he simply stopped seeing the point of waiting around. 

It’s usually endearing in most cases.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Ven?”

“Check if it actually sent.”

Terra sighs - what else is he going to do? - and checks his phone. Swipe away the phone call, open texts. 

What he sees makes him shake.

“No… I sent it to Aqua.” He’s saying that to thin air, and brings it back to his ear to repeat it. “I sent it to Aqua.”

“Seriously?” Now he actually sounds concerned. At first. Then there’s a snicker on the other end.

“How do I take it back?”

“I-” The pause is too long, Ven calming himself after two more laughs escape. “You can’t.”

“I can’t delete it?”

“Yeah, but-”

“How, Ven?”

A door opens and shuts behind him. This isn’t the time to deal with customers.

But it’s Aqua. And her phone is in her hand. Wonderful.

Terra stands in front of his workbench, spreading his arms wide to _casually_ rest them on the surface, hiding as much as possible. 

Of course this leaves Ventus back to talking to himself, his words indecipherable. 

“What is this?” Aqua asks him, showing him the screen where his photo is proudly on display. She’s curious if anything. “What do you mean by ‘_happy now_’?”

It feels like Terra is about to puke his heart out, and he’ll have no choice but to leave it on the floor to thrash by itself while he pretends to ignore it. 

“Supposed to be a question,” he mumbles.

She cocks both her eyebrows, rolling her lips inward because she knows him well enough to understand that he’s acting ridiculous. “It looks like a wand? I don’t get it?”

He’s too silent, taken too long to reply to Ventus who suddenly screams through the phone, “WHAT’S GOING ON? DON’T WORRY TERRA, I’LL SAVE YOU.”

Terra hangs up.

“He’s being rude,” Aqua says, smiling and shaking her head to herself. She steps closer and if Terra has never felt back pain from standing so stiffly, he does now. “So what are you making?” she asks innocently, like he isn’t about to burn into ashes from the heat in his cheeks. “You never told me about this.”

His heart hammers in his throat. “Something.”

She snorts. “I can see that.”

He points at her phone, the words unable to come so he forces them out. “I was supposed to send that to Ven.”

Aqua double-checks her screen, like she’s trying not to miss something. “What does Ven want with precious jewels?”

But Terra shakes his head, and his refusal to answer actually makes her smile fall. The point was to give her a gift that was completed, refined, perfect because she deserves more than that. “You just have to-”

_Trust me._

She does, even when she hesitates. Even today, after months of sharing a bed, after adjusting to a peaceful life with few Heartless, after re-training themselves to stop expecting something awful to happen in ten minutes and ruin their lives again, he’s never actually asked her to do that. She just does. 

It feels wrong to do so now. 

The sigh he allows to slip is shaky, long, uncontrolled. If there’s anything these insane years have taught him, it’s acceptance. 

He decides to be brave, finally, by looking her in the eyes. “It’s for you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and she leans forward like she’s unsure what she just heard. “You’re making me something with gemstones?”

Then she blinks several times, like she’s just seen the light. Scatters the desk behind him. Licks her lips. Searches his face for the same answer again and again to the question suddenly bursting in her mind. 

“It’s a…” she waits. 

It’s hard to swallow the thumping in his throat, but he does, his eyes starting to sting. “Yeah.”

The gasp she takes in doesn’t leave her mouth, jaw dropping, eyes searching faster until a smile makes itself known. She bites her lips, her teeth showing as her cheeks puff up, and even though she tries to literally wipe herself calmly, her happiness is stronger. She can’t form words, but the laughter and the tears are more than enough.

“Com-” Terra swallows again, outstretching his arms toward her like he’s about to catch her. His own cheeks hurt from his grins. “Compose yourself, Master Aqua.”

The Master before him reminds herself, and she pats her cheeks like she’s trying to wake herself up, but her laughs again win this battle. Aqua throws herself around his neck, taking him in for a hard kiss because, still, words do no justice for the giggles. 

Happiness is something, Terra finds, to be something that needs to be protected the most. There’s something about the emotion that makes him feel like he’s home, but also incredibly vulnerable. Like looking over his shoulder to catch a thief trying to steal it away. 

But this is different. There’s a soreness when she pulls away, like his happiness is starving and she’s only fed it a small snack. It knocks on his chest, knocks on his forehead, knocks and opens through the tears out of his own eyes.

He needs to do it now.

He takes her phone and opens to the text messages, brings his photo to the screen. 

“Ah,” he sighs, “obviously it’s not done, but I guess-”

“M-hm,” she nods quickly, hiding her smile behind her hand. It’s too big to be concealed well.

His cheeks hurt more and he doesn’t know how that’s possible. Bending down on one knee, he holds her phone in the palm of his hand, a photo of a silver rod with a curved tip that still needs to be sawed off, soldered together, and drilled for holes, taking most of the space, with a layout of tiny sapphires arranged in a design that should transfer well if he does his job right. 

“Aqua,” he begins and there goes his heart again, threatening to lurch itself out of his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t allow a single second to take the spotlight, dropping to her knees to embrace him, to kiss him more and more, to mix their tears and their laughs together. 

It makes him forget there ever is a spiteful thief that hates the image of merriment, that in any second Ven can walk in here and ruin the moment. It makes him believe that happiness is as powerful as metal and as immovable as earth, meant to last forever. 

He gives her space to sit on his thigh, gripping her tightly because this happiness, this future in his arms, needs to be nourished. 

Hmm, he definitely should put that in his vows. Suddenly the idea that he has to confess all of these thoughts in a wedding in front of guests is now making him nervous again.

But he has to do it, scared stomach be damned.

“This is practice for the real thing,” he chuckles, essentially telling his nausea to mind its own business.

She grins and all he wants is to make her smile more. “Did you have better plans for asking me?”

“No.” He doesn’t know why he sounds so shaky. “I haven’t begun planning for it just yet.”

She kisses him again. “Can I watch you finish it? I can give you pointers.”

He nods, tracing the lines in her irises with his eyes. “Sure.”

“We can even measure my finger.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They linger there, like they’re expecting it to be unpleasant to peel themselves off each other. 

Aqua, his Aqua, gives him one more nibble on his lip, hugging him like they’ve been reunited for the first time in years, before she finally gets up and _composes_ herself like the Master she is. She fetches a face shield too, before picking up Naminé’s plans. 

She says it’s beautiful, despite that it’s nowhere near finished. Her pointers are great, helpful for avoiding foreseeable issues, but the most fun part of letting her in this way is hearing her grin again and again. And even though he once churned with anxiousness at the thought, now he can’t wait to see it on her finger.

Facing fears is like jumping off a cliff. Sometimes, you’ll fall and get hurt, struggling before walking again. Sometimes, you’ll fly.


	2. the stars bear witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underneath the responsibilities of Keyblade Mastery are two people who are still figuring it out. Terra and Aqua sneak away for a quiet moment together. 
> 
> For the Future Masters prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic. THIS FIC, GOOD GRIEF. It started as a deleted scene from my star fic, using headcanons that I decided not to use, and then I decided to make this my Terraqua Zine submission. Good grief. Needless to say, we all get that back-breaking fic that makes us think we should quit writing to spare the fandom our garbage and THIS FIC - I've had several do that to me, but none like this one. Still, it was the hardest decision to cut this halfway through the process and start anew with a different idea altogether for the zine (doubling my workload and tripling my stress) but it was the right choice. It's relieving to be able to dust this one out and finish it without the pressure of making it perfect. I can now make peace with it.

Some nights, like tonight, are stronger than the friends I have with me.

There’s a place deep in the woods, right by the riverbank, were the Master used to meditate. He believed the energy there gives us second chances - something about the way the water strolls without a care to look back or to know where it’s going. Right now, it sounds like a fantastic idea.

When I say I want to go, Aqua doesn’t bat an eyelash even though it’s the middle of the night; it’s late enough that we both know sleep has left long ago and shut the door behind it. She’s more than ready to peel herself off the most boring book in the library and her eyes have already frozen themselves open.

I get why she’s taking her teaching duties so seriously, but I don’t see the point in making it that much harder to be awake for her lessons. 

In spite of that, she gives me a lazy smile, and invites herself. “I know you want me to go with you, anyway,” she says, and it’s completely true. I used to get so annoyed at her for reading me so easily.

We whisper and tip-toe across the castle, even though it’s humongous and there’s no way the other students would hear us. I know this for a fact. I know because I can hear their heartbeats, doors away, slowing down as they fall into slumber. That sounds completely crazy, I know - it’s a power that stayed with me since my days in darkness. I’ve been a literal bodyguard on behalf of anyone who used me this way for over a decade, and so… the skill is burned into me. Aqua doesn’t know yet, and no, I’m not proud. 

Yet for some reason, I can’t bring myself to speak to her at a normal volume and tell her that they’re soundly sleeping when she’s darting looks around to see if we bothered anyone. She takes my hand when the cold breeze nips us, and I lead her down a trail that sneaks far away from the security of the training grounds.

We used to hold hands like this as kids: always stay together and keep each other safe, per the Master’s rules. I can’t lie, I’m glad we haven’t dropped this habit even though we don’t need it anymore. 

Or maybe I really do need it. I never wanted to go alone, and… I guess there’s always that one possibility something might go wrong. 

Remembering what I’m capable of almost makes me want to cancel this night out, tell her to go back inside and try to sleep as I walk it off into the forest, where the lanterns don’t shine.

But I know her, and she hates conversations like this. 

She’s stubborn too, conjuring herself a little companion, an orb of light, to lead us the way into the ticket so we don’t get lost. It drips dotted sparkles on the ground, like a pathway back home when we’re done. Very handy. It’s almost like she nearly expected me to object on her behalf, because I know the dark isn’t good for her, and she’s already nipped the conversation before it can happen.

Yeah, it’s good that Aqua is with me. She’s usually the smarter one - usually, when she’s not mad. Despite her expertise, I’d say she’s probably fire where I’m icy. She’s soft when I’m rigid, understanding when I’m short-sighted. She’s light when I’m darkness. When I’m blind, she sees.

We approach the river hidden by weeping willows, where logs wait for us to sit and watch the ripples stroll by. There’s more than a million lanterns in the sky to see out here, but I think I now realize I’ve never needed one to guide me back home when I have her.

It’s nice, just being away from the castle and be… us. Terra and Aqua, instead of respectful Keyblade Masters who are admired and perfected in the minds of others. 

Masters… I start talking about the Master, how he said the stars keep watch over us. It’s what keeps us all connected through a stronger light. The three of us believe that he’s up there somewhere, watching what we’re doing right now. 

“He used to say that if you cried out here, under the stars, we’d be able to hear you from the other side of the mountain,” I say. 

“That’s right, I completely forgot.” Her whisper gives out, shivering until it makes sound. Her fingers are locked with mine, and her gaze travels somewhere else. Whatever she’s remembering is a happy thought. “I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

Of all the things she could have said, I’d never understand what possessed her to say that. 

“You know what I mean,” she corrects herself when she sees my face. “I’m glad you remember these things. It makes me feel like I’m back home.”

“You mean, you don’t feel like-?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “it’s not.”

When it’s this quiet between us, I hear the crickets. I can even feel them rub their wings together.

“Well,” she says with a kick in her voice and a squeeze of my hand. I _hear_ how proud she is of herself for being a teacher. “Ready to practice?”

No, thank you. 

“Sure.”

It’s a good distraction for her, giving me private lessons. No one really _tries_ to treat her any different, and certainly Aqua would prefer to befriend our students. At the same time, in the classroom, she is Master Aqua, Survivor of the Realm of Darkness. 

But when Aqua has her mind set on something, it’s tunnel vision, and there’s something nice about that when I’m unsure.

It’s probably why she encourages me to do it here, away from the scrutinizing glare of the castle walls in a forest that doesn’t care what our names are. Here, there’s no talk about how to define a Keyblade Master, or what our next missions are and how long we’ll be separated.

Straddling the log underneath us, Aqua holds out her hand, her glowing orb as white as a pearl hovering above her palm. 

I ask her for the third time if she’s okay with this. 

I don’t know if she ever tires of reassuring me, but she does again with no complaints.

I can’t really compare to how she’s so willing to face the darkness despite what she’s been through. She’s braver than me.

What I can say for sure is that we’ve never once considered there would be a day when my hand would hover above hers like this, that I’d will darkness to pour out of it slowly, skating the surface of her light, its tendrils wrapping it in a small embrace.

Eerily, it feels like brushing her cheek, or rubbing her palms. Whatever I’m touching feels as real as holding her. Which terrifies me.

The point is to cover the orb entirely without smothering or destroying it. But it’s an accident that happens too frequently, like I hurt her without meaning to, even though she keeps saying she’s not in pain. 

It happens because her light is vivid and powerful, and I have to exert a tremendous force just to do a decent job of covering it, and I always do too much.

I hate it when I do that.

I hate that I still have darkness. 

Aqua wants me to stop feeling ashamed over it, but she doesn’t understand what a hard request that is. I can’t _not_ feel ashamed, and of course I stop before I even try.

“Terra,” she says when the tendrils let go, when I draw the energy back into my hand and pull away. “I don’t want to push you but…”

“I know.” We all have darkness. We all have the capability of getting swallowed by it. Since it will stay with me forever, might as well be at peace with it. 

After all, if I don’t ever want to hurt her or Ven again, it’s something I have to control properly.

Her other palm rests on the back of my hand, leading it back over the orb and she keeps it there, sandwiched in-between her touch. I like it too much to tell her that it’s distracting. 

Then of course there’s that nagging need at the back of my mind that wants to impress her, that wants to prove myself so I stop thinking about what her touch feels like and try again.

I hold her with my other hand. It’s palm on dorsal on palm on dorsal, like we need to delicately contain the light and darkness in-between, like what we hold in our hands is a safe space for me to make mistakes, to make her light flicker, to make darkness spit and burst out from the sides. As long I don’t destroy what she has, I can find some way to sleep without feeling like shit about myself.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she says to me. 

_There’s nothing to be afraid of._ She says this to herself each and every time before she walks into a dark room when she thinks no one can hear her… when she thinks I don’t notice how her shadow quivers. 

“The castle is safe,” I reply and she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “I can’t say the same for myself.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Maybe I am. “There’s more to it.”

If there’s anything I appreciate about Aqua, it’s how she doesn’t let me go. It’s how she waits for me to finish without prodding. She knows me, she knows I’m scared to say what’s next. 

So I start the only way I know how. 

“There’s a rabbit too terrified to move out of a hedge back there.” I point behind me, listening to the escalated heartbeat hiding in that bush. “Let’s see, there’s an owl watching for prey and it doesn’t care we’re here.” I nod my head towards the direction across the river, where the shadows are very still.

The more I speak, the harder her stare becomes. I speak with ordinary words but nothing is making me sound like a normal person.

“What are you talking about?”

I breathe first. It does shit to calm me. "I can tell where everyone's shadows are. I can feel them move." It takes a second to realize that I'm staring at our fingers, where darkness slips through the cracks because it's too intimidated by the light underneath. "Think of it as a leftover tip from the Thing."

_The Thing_, of course. The other Keybearers call it the Guardian but I've never felt like I did a good job with such a title. We've talked about _the Thing_ many times, and I'll hear stories of how the others came across it, and how it stalked them during fights, and I simply get too tired to even broach the subject anymore. I don't know why I even bring it up now. This darkness comes from _the Thing_ and I would rather scrub myself clean of it.

But she laughs, and I swear my heart forgets to beat. "Is this what Ven meant when he said it was impossible to sneak up on you?"

“Did he seriously say that?”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “He doesn’t understand how you always know where he is when he hides.” She hums, like she’s grateful for the laugh. “He thinks I’m crazy for not noticing but I thought he was exaggerating.”

“He wasn’t.” Thinking about him automatically makes me think about rolling around, about excited conversations and Chirithy patiently waiting on the edge of the bed. “Right now, Ven’s not even sleeping. He’s just talking to Cheers.”

“Is that right.” Sounds like he’s going to get the surprise of the morning when she’ll bug him about procrastinating on his beauty rest.

She takes a moment to think, a small smile breaching her face. “So, when I ask you if there is something creeping around the castle...?”

“There’s really nothing.” 

She smiles, gripping my hands harder. Tears fall, like she’s been told that she’s going to survive. Her eyes thank me. Wow, I never really thought about it, if I did that much good for her. 

“Why are you still so hard on yourself, though?” Her smile fades away.

There’s a thousand easy answers to that. “Because I don’t want to have this. Everyone else gets to grow up as typical Keyblade Wielders but…” 

She nods.

“I also have an unwanted gift from the darkness.” At first she doesn’t look at me when she says that, her smile morphing from its temporary joy to a familiar melancholy.

I wonder if she knows how sad she sounds all the time.

She lets a hand go free, finding its way to her chest as she flutters her eyes closed. Suddenly I’m reminded of her first magic lessons, when I thought it would take her forever to cast Fire because she needed to take ten minutes to concentrate before even trying.

Now, I can’t gauge how much time passes by in silence before something finally happens. A cold, humid wind trickles by us, despite that it’s summer. 

Here I am, vulnerable and unprepared with my legs wide over a log, and I’m surrounded by many Aqua’s, her orb of light almost shedding through them. Most of them look down on me, angry, disappointed, confused, sad. As sad as she sounds a lot of the time.

These phantoms have no shadows, so to me they don’t exist even though I can clearly see them. They’re scary.

When it’s more appropriate, I’ll joke that the only thing creeping around the castle is her.

“I can’t control them,” she explains quickly, and I hope she’s not assuming that I’m taking their stares personally (I am). “I can’t even make them move.”

I shrug. “They’re pretty badass.”

Aqua snorts. “You always have a way of making me feel better,” she says and I’ve never realized. 

When she lets go of them, they swiftly disappear, but the cold lingers and it almost makes me suspicious that they’re still around, despairing about things she won’t talk about. Like there are thoughts she keeps secret. 

“I never meant to make you sad,” I say. We’ve talked a little about what the last twelve years were like for her. I know where those phantoms come from. 

“You don’t,” she says with such confidence just to remind me that she doesn’t blame me for anything and I almost want to force her to. 

To punish me or get angry with me. To stop kissing me goodnight or confirm to me that the Master must be so disappointed, wherever he is. But she never does. _Why not?_

“Why not?” I blurt out.

At least she’s smiling again. “All I’ve ever wanted was to have you back. I mean, I’m angry, yeah. I am. But I feel better when you’re around. I need that.” 

She scoots closer to me, the smell of her shampoo with blends of vanilla and lavender in my face. The white sheen of her orb makes her eyes bluer. 

“Terra, I’m glad you’re here. It’s spotty, sure. I always feel bad when you stay awake just to help me sleep but... we’re Masters together. Just like we wanted.”

It’s my turn to snort. “I don’t mind staying up, obviously.”

When her smile reaches her eyes, that’s when I think she’s prettiest. “I don’t either.” 

I do mind it when she leans away from me when I try to kiss her. 

“The stars are watching,” she says, like a teacher bringing the entire class’ attention to shame one student. 

I don’t have a good enough retort, so I huff. Think about the usefulness of my foreign, unwieldy powers. If this is the way she wants me to kiss her, so be it, I’ll get the tendrils moving again to cover her light. 

“We should try some pranks on Ven,” I whisper.

“Between my clones and your honing abilities-”

“It’d be hilarious.”

“See, you haven’t changed.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Twelve years later, and pranks still make you smirk like a child.”

“Ven deserves it.”

“... I’ll only deny that a little bit.”

I don’t say out loud that I’m grateful for her - I really should work on expressing myself better, and I only hope she knows. 

Aqua has always been good with magic but it’s a special sort when she makes me forget about what worries me despite the fact that I can’t heal from this. 

I snigger about the darkness with her for a simple night in the woods and it’s suddenly a miracle that I can wrap her light in a black veil, like it’s no big deal. A hovering, black orb as deep a hole in space with all the energy locked inside, floating in between our hands. It’s hard work, yes, and I tremble from the effort, but now she wants to see how long I can keep it up. 

I’ve forgotten how _dark_ it is out in the wild. 

But she’s like a star, and they shine best in a night like this. 

They’re too far away to really give me anything to see, but she’s close enough that I slowly make out the blue in her eyes. 

One simple kiss is never enough and always leads to a second, a third. 

I let go of the veil to hold her face, her sheen blinding after several seconds of being caressed by the darkness, bright enough to stop us from seeing the stars.


	3. Transitions ~ In colors like paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change hurts. There will be a lot of missteps before Aqua can figure out how to start anew.  
Where each season makes them realize how much they really need to forgive each other - and themselves.
> 
> For the Seasons prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was actually planned long before KH3 ever came out - it was supposed to be a sweet little post-trauma fic but when I finally played the game, it changed all my plans (and became my star fic). I tried adding the outline of this to it, but it was way too complicated so I cut it. I thought about applying this idea to the Future Masters prompt, then to the Dreams prompt, but it ended up here because I had no other good ideas for Seasons. xDDD In traditional English literature, seasons have their certain symbolisms and I wanted to be on the nose with that. Hopefully I pulled it off. I apologize if it's not to my usual standards, and I'm also sorry it's long - IT'S THE ONLY LONG ONE FOR THE WEEK I PROMISE!!

_Autumn ~ Taking stock of adulthood_

Their first days back home are about rest: remembering what laughing feels like, how delicious Aqua’s baking is, how a snore sounds. 

What they’ve reaped from months (years) of neglect is a castle full of dust and piles of dirt tucked into corners from the wind blowing in. It’s how autumn gathers a storm of red and yellow, leaving them stacked against windows that need to be aired out like dirty laundry.

The castle is far too big for them, so the west wing is particularly ignored, wood all needing a good wax and cushions that need to be washed. Right now, it’s about figuring out what they have in order to prepare for the new students coming in next year. 

Ventus sneezes as he walks past the fifth couch in the third lounge they have seen today (they’ll have to convert a lot of them into bedrooms) when Terra opens the door. 

“You won’t believe what I just found,” he says, though he’s directing it mainly towards Aqua.

It’s a short walk around two corners, heading towards the back of the castle, where he leads them through a maze of hallways just to stop at another hallway.

“Remember this?” He points and asks Aqua.

A small painting near the floor, faded from age, depict stick figures of a girl and a boy with a cartoonish mockery of a castle in gold, and a simple sun. Plus two tiny hand prints, one made in gray-blue paint and one in dull-orange. 

It’s been at least a good twelve years since she’s ever thought of it.

Aqua sits on her knees and touches the figure - the paint is so dry and crusty that it chips off the shoulder of her character. She’ll have to be gentler next time. 

“I still can’t believe the Master never removed it,” she says softly.

“Yeah, he was really mad at us,” Terra says, bending down with her and pressing his hand against the print his child-self left behind. He is so big now that the child’s memory in its entirety is smaller than his palm. 

“How old were the two of you when you did this?” Ventus asks, leaning on his knees to inspect the masterpiece.

Aqua and Terra shoot looks at each other, seeking permission to speak first, pondering their minds to see if they have the same answer.

“Six and seven, I think,” Aqua answers, and Terra agrees. “We finger-painted it. That was the first time I was ever grounded.”

“Cute… what are you going to do with it now?”

Desaturated from its original colors, the painting looks like a stain against the towering white wall, which stretches down the hall. 

“The responsible thing, I guess,” she says, though her voice hitches in the slightest - something about the thought makes her feel like she’s killing her child, like the Aqua of the past and the Aqua of now are two different people. In a way, she’s betraying someone close to her. “Paint over it, keep it clean for the new students.”

Terra shakes his head, running his palm against the wall surrounding the old paint like he’s measuring it. 

“Is that what you actually want?” he asks. 

“Not really.” 

“I don’t feel right doing it either,” he says. “It’s like, the Terra who left this behind had no idea how his life was going to turn out. All he had were goals and dreams.”

She chuckles - as much as she enjoys watching him smile, she’d have to say he’s at his most beautiful when he’s introspective.

“I feel the same way, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Yeah.” He takes one hard look at the painting. “I want to make amends to my younger self, instead of burying him. Let him be happy. Is that strange?”

“Not at all.” What is strange is how near she is at tears - Terra always has a way of knowing what she needs, even if he doesn’t mean to. Less strange is her need to hold his hand; years of lacking any affection made her realize that what she truly wanted this entire time was for him to touch her. 

So she takes his hand, grips it firmly, and so easily he weaves his fingers in hers, like it’s same old, same old.

Terra faces Ven, to include him in. “Why don’t we give it some attention? It looks really sad.”

“There’s paint in the storage unit,” Ventus replies excitedly. 

The old paint smells bad but it’s not like they have anything else - it’s not every day these three indulge in a little arts and crafts session. Fingers too big to mimic the traces of children, they use pencil-thin brushes and careful strokes to make the recoat as close to the original: Terra and Aqua on their respective characters and handprints, Ventus on the cartoon sun and castle. 

It’s only with Terra’s permission that Ven can add a stick figure of himself and Chirithy.

When they are done, Terra opens a sealed pot of green paint. “Ven, you’ll join in.”

He dips his own hand into orange paint, and plasters it on the wall, right next to his old hand print. 

Aqua follows suit with the blue, and it feels like she’s making a new friend. 

With the stick end of a paintbrush, Terra points to a place in between. “Yours will go here, Ven.”

Ventus gives him a look, almost like he was about to joke over how seriously Terra is taking this, but decides against it, following orders by dipping his hand into the green paint and adding it to the painting. 

“Cheers’ will go right beside yours,” Terra says. 

Chirithy chooses purple and on goes its tiny pawprint, like a period to a sentence. One little happy family with a cat-thing.

Honestly, it still looks like a mess in comparison to the stunning white wall, but at least it’s colorful, like a permanent bouquet of flowers in an otherwise cold season that only exists to make it colder.

* * *

_Winter ~ There are two kinds of death: one of irreversible changes, and one of growth from rot_

Winter is for snuggling, for warm hot chocolates, blankets, fireplaces, and stories to make everyone forget that it’s miserable outside. 

If only Terra is here to enjoy that. His replies through the Gummiphone are inconsistent and short, like he doesn’t want to be bothered or is too busy to really check. He is most vague when he refers to his whereabouts. 

Ventus is doing the favor of waiting for Terra to return, but he’s been planning his own trip for quite some time. It’s not fair to him - but at least he won’t be alone, since Chirithy will go with him.

Aqua supposes that she would like at least a day with her whole family together. 

“You sure you have everything?” she asks him.

Ventus smirks but thinks better than giving her a sarcastic answer. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me, but yes.”

She sighs. Snow builds up in the skylights. Where is Terra? 

“Excited?” she asks, thinking it best not to dread over things. It’s always how she ruins the moment. 

“I am,” he starts, slowly realizing something else like there’s a voice in his head trying to convince him otherwise. “Maybe. Merlin is probably going to have me sitting all day reading books.”

Ventus doesn’t think he’d be a good teacher or has the capability of being a leader, so he wants to seek knowledge instead. And who better to start than by honing his finesse over magic than with the wizard himself?

“Lea and Kairi only had good things to say about his training.” 

“That’s only because they’re polite when _you’re_ around,” Ventus smirks. 

She sighs. Again. “Terra should be here to say goodbye.”

He nods over to the direction past her. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Whipping over her shoulder, she sees who-else-but strolling up to them, his overcoat gone and without his shoes which means _he has entered the castle and didn’t say hi to them first. _

Chirithy, who most of the time sits quietly on Ven’s shoulders and is a bit too calculating with which conversations it joins, squeaks to itself. “Something is not right.”

She’ll pretend not to hear that. “Where were you?” Aqua asks Terra. 

Ventus clears his throat - an indication that just maybe, the inflection in her voice may sound a tad accusatory. Not the best way to start anything with Terra. 

“Around,” is his casual answer, gliding past her and reaching to ruffle Ven’s hair. “I’m glad I made it in time. Needed to say good luck.”

“And now it’s time for me to leave,” Ventus says, fixing his hairdo. “I want to beat the snowstorm at least.” 

“You’d only be exposed for a few minutes before you leave the world,” Terra objects.

“Well, _someone_ should have been here earlier.” Ignoring the way Chirithy is pulling at his hair, he takes his only suitcase. “The next time you’ll see me, I’ll wow you with my new skills, and you will all be jealous.” 

He gives the two of them one final look before heading out the door. “Play nice, you two.”

Maybe she’s the only one thinking that something’s amiss, what with Terra rubbing his forearms together with a smile on his face as he faces her. “I want to show you something.”

That something is a pile of rags neatly laid out on the floor under the wall with the child’s painting, and brand new buckets of paint.

Terra is excited. “I thought we could make a mural out of this.” His fingers graze the wall, tracing it as he walks down. “We could have a night sky up above, with stars. Under it will be the mountains, and the castle at the very end.” He comes back to their childish project, cupping his hands around it. “We’ll keep this here, protected.” 

It’s hard not to burst his bubble. It’s also _really_ hard not to make it sound awful coming out of her mouth. “You left us to buy paint?”

He lays a fist against the white. “Not really. I just needed some time to myself.”

She folds her arms to hug herself. All she really wants is a straight answer, but Terra’s not the type to be pushed. “You were gone for a really long time.”

“I know.” He doesn’t look her in the eye; she will not get her answer tonight. “But we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, addressing the wall. “We’ll only do it with your permission.”

“My permission?” She scratches her ear. “You already bought the paint.”

“We may need it for other things.” He shrugs. “You’re still keeper of the castle.”

She sighs. It’s nice to see him look forward to something. She’s thought so much about what made him leave in the first place, reliving the days right before again and again in her mind - he was restless a little bit, didn’t sleep much, but none of that is new. Then he left to fight some straggling Heartless in another world, and never came back.

Maybe she’s taking him completely out of context.

“Tell me first why you’re so attached to this idea,” she says.

He taps the wall. “It’s weird, I know I’m back, but it feels like I’m not...

“I wanted a fresh start. Do something the Master would never approve of. A blank slate for us to go off on that has nothing to do with the lives we’ve lived or the hell we’ve been through. I want something just for the both of us. Like, something that tells us we have our lives back together. Does that make sense?”

It does. Getting on the right footing with him isn’t the easiest thing when he’s completely enveloped in giving her attention one day and then completely distant the next. She can’t blame him for that either, she behaves the same way sometimes.

Having trauma is like having some days all to herself; the rest no longer belong to her. 

But a few weeks of him gone - when she’s spent years praying that he’d touch her again - is worse torture. 

Aqua decides it’s time to let the past die. She wraps her arms around his waist, digs her face into his sweater.

“We’ll start by hugging you?” she replies.

He closes the embrace, holding her firmly like he’s forgotten that he needed the hug too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice in her hair. “For making you worry.”

She nods. “Can I hug you whenever I want?”

He snorts, bringing her in tighter. “I’d like that.” 

“Okay.” She brings herself to look up at him, his genuine smile in full display. “We can do the mural.”

Excitement on Terra’s face is special: it’s subtle, so much so that anyone who doesn’t know him well would probably never guess. 

He gives her a gentle squeeze to let her know he’ll let her go, before opening a bucket of blue paint and dipping a wide brush into it. Starting a few inches from the child’s painting, he sweeps upward - the color of a winter sky. 

* * *

_Spring ~ Birth by sleep_

Flowers make blossoming look easy. It gradually comes in a matter of days, berry sprouts and flecks of color casually making their acquaintance through the fields. Soon, the Master’s old gardens will have a variety of colors.

Soon, if she takes care of them.

The ease at which she finds gardening isn’t true for anything else in her life that needs growth. Birthing a new life with Terra is slow, arduous, exciting, and truth be told, painful at times - painful when old habits don’t die and he keeps stonewalling her when she presses him too hard.

Nighttime in the spring isn’t like the summer’s - it’s cold.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission, taking out Heartless that threatened a small town. That was it. 

Terra storms through the entrance hall, throwing his helmet in a fury as she follows from behind. 

“Listen to me,” she calls from behind him, “there’s nothing wrong with what-”

He stops dead in his tracks, whips to face her, holds a finger up like he’s going to jab it in her face, then thinks better of it and crosses his arms, head slung over.

Part of her wants to berate herself for pushing the subject when he’s uncomfortable; the other has lost her patience. How many times is this erratic mood going to continue?

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she says. Wasn’t it?

“How can you say that,” he snaps. 

“You were only trying to help-”

“That doesn’t help at all-”

“You didn’t even hurt anybody-”

“_I could have!_”

It shuts her up, it surprises him. She can count the number of times Terra has ever yelled in his life in one hand, this being included. It’s just not like him. The sound of it throwing itself against the walls still vibrates, and he stares at the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have really pressed the issue.”

All Terra does is shake his head, mumbling to himself with his eyes closed. He’s in a ton of pain, and in her desperate need to correct what’s been going on, she really failed at seeing it. She really should have been more sensitive, she really should have… 

“This is the reason you disappeared a few months ago, right?” she asks.

It’s the purse in his lips and the sharp inhale that tells her she’s right. “I’m going to bed,” he says.

“Terra, I really am sorry.”

“I heard you, you’re forgiven.” Said like someone who wants to be as far away from her as possible.

“We-” she starts, her hand outstretched because she always, always hugs him goodnight.

He actually stops and turns to face her. Leave it to Terra to be the better person, to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“Um…” She hides one hand in her sashes, to let herself fiddle with her fingers without making it obvious. “We can work on the mural tonight, if you want to.”

He licks his lips. “Not tonight.” Defeated and tired are just two words to describe it, turning away like they’ve never made a deal about hugs before.

The castle is still and sleepy when she’s by herself. Ventus is still in his sabbatical, Terra retiring to his room for the rest of… some part of her is scared that he’ll have to take a break too. 

When she walks, the echoes of her shoes are heard by nothing, slightly bouncing off the walls before silence takes a bite. 

It’s quieter in the western wing. The mural is tedious work, so humongous that Terra, who’s been doing the sky, has to shuffle in between steps of the ladder just to paint vertically, before having to scooch the entire thing over to get to the next surface area. She’s doing the grass, and she splits her time between standing up and being on her knees. 

So far, the base colors are done, two flat sections of dark blue and green. What they’d have to do next is the shading, making grass blades and pepper it with stars...

Which would give them ample time to talk about things, if he was here. Painting is the best therapist, giving their hands and half their mind something pleasant to do while allowing them the comfort to talk.

But Terra isn’t here.

No, Terra is in his room, and she hears ruffling when she stands outside his door. She’s sure to knock softly.

He gives her a soft “Hey” when he opens the door, his face wearing regret over what happened earlier. Behind him is an opened suitcase with haphazardly folded clothes.

“You’re leaving again?” she asks and crosses her arms.

“Thinking about it.” He slips his hands into his pockets, clears his throat. He honestly looks like a child accepting that his parents have abandoned him. “I’m just not comfortable with… with knowing what I’m capable of.”

“You don’t think, for even a second that-” She breathes. “That maybe darkness won’t be so bad if you used it right?”

“Used it right?”

“I’ve had it.” She places her hand firmly against her chest, in conviction. So that he sees her, so that he understands. “And it was sad. That’s all I felt, that’s all it was. And I still feel sad sometimes, but I’m not dark.”

“But I don’t want it.” He swings his arm in dismissal. “If I could, I’d punch it in the face for what it did to you.”

Pause. To care this much, and she cares, too. Too much to let him think it’d be a good idea to leave. “It was effective at least.” 

“It’s still darkness.” 

“Riku wouldn’t even agree with you.” Her breath hitches. When is she going to learn to respect his boundaries? “You have a good heart, Terra. You have all the right intentions, you’re kind and generous and steadfast and the best person I know-”

It’s the way he’s staring at her that makes her stop. She hasn’t realized yet that she’s building tears behind her eyes.

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to,” he says, a compassionate smile on his face, like he’s so tired of this but he chooses to sympathize with her anyway.

She wants to say _Please don’t leave me_, beg him to keep this castle alive while Ventus and Chirithy are gone, but that is unbecoming of her. 

She could say _Please stay_, but then how could she be better person if she was still trying to nudge Terra around to her whim? 

She could say _It’s fine, please go_, and it would betray what she really wants, allow Terra to cater to his own needs while she tolerates her pain. Again.

Taking that first step towards him is the hardest, like trying to breathe underwater and feeling the burn, her heart pounding like it’s beating holes into the earth with its bare hands. Starting over has its costs.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and she says, “I love you.” 

She doesn’t know what else to say, this being the truest, as bare as the tears falling down her face.

Terra… gasps. Freezes in her touch like he’s unsure of what to do, before hugging her back, so tightly like she’ll just slip if he loosens his grip. 

All she hears are trembling sighs like she’s cast a silence spell on him, but she still listens - to the way he rubs her arms, the way his eyes scatter her face, the way he cups her jaw and leans down to kiss her - 

Not on her mouth, but on her eyelid, leading down the trail of tears like he’s drinking them, to her jaw before moving on to the other eyelid. It’s _loony_ for sure, but it speaks with his truth: this new, mutable Terra has his heart where it’s always been all these years - with her. 

The touch of his lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever daydreamed about in her youth, in the Realm of Darkness. Startling and soft enough to make her stop crying, that every tear coming out now is just a straggler who left too late. 

When he’s done, he takes her lips in his, her waist into his arms, her hair into his hands. They both tremble in this embrace, shocked and nervous and excited about the exchange, anew, like this is the first time either of them have been born.

They only stop to take a breath. “Can I stay?” she asks. 

He grins into her forehead. “I was going to ask you the same.”

It takes countless more kisses, more silent tears of joy, more back rubs and more breathy laughs in between before they go to his bed and make a new life in between their bodies, for themselves. They end the night with a whispered promise that they’ll continue the mural tomorrow.

* * *

_Summer ~ To make room for joy_

If summer is supposed to be for relaxing, it doesn’t exist inside the castle. It’s crunch time - setting up class schedules, moving new furniture in, making a dormitory out of the western wing. 

Perhaps, most personally, it’s time to finally finish it. The tediousness gets easier with time. 

Terra stands at the very top of the ladder at the far right side, finishing his last few stars, rounded out like curved Wayfinders, some larger, others like twinkles. 

Aqua is below, proudly finished with shading grass and adding trees. She’s touching up the biggest stained-glass window of a depiction of the castle, using a photograph as a reference - it’s very two-dimensional but she’s not a professional. 

“I think I’m done,” she announces.

“You’ll find a reason to come back and tweak it,” he says, his face mere inches from the wall as he adds the tiniest bit of stars over the tallest tower.

“But,” he adds, taking one last look over, “I’m definitely done.”

He waddles down the finicky ladder, squeaking with every step. The last stars he added look like dots, scattered and spread over the castle like a blessing.

“Stardust,” she says. “Protecting the castle, that’s so sweet.”

“Really?” He looks up, his grip never leaving the ladder rungs, and shrugs. “Kind of, yeah.”

“What is it supposed to be?”

“I mean, stardust, you’re right.” He lets go. “I think other people would interpret it the same way.”

“I’m serious.”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck. “The star is crying.”

She nearly drops her paintbrush. “Why are you thinking about crying?”

A pause first before he crosses his arms, wipes his mouth of nervousness. “There’s not much I remember from… being… Xehanort really.”

That name always makes them tense and they seldom say it. It’s usually _you-know-who_, or _him_, or _that time_. 

“I don’t know where he was during that time,” Terra continues, “but it was one of the very few moments that I actually had some consciousness. I heard things, like voices. I don’t know why he was talking to a little girl, but I heard her, so clearly.”

He’s somewhere far away, completely forgetting that he has his hand suspended in the air as he reminisces.

“They were actually talking about hearts, him and this little girl, and she said to him that when a person cries, their tears are their hearts shedding, and they lose a part of themselves the more they do...

“And I always suspected that was what made me so weak, because being in that darkness felt like I was crying for twelve years. I wanted to paint that in to make it okay.” 

The thought makes him cry, like he’s finally putting a secret to rest. 

She takes his face in her hands, does the same nutty ritual he gave her months ago, starting with a kiss to his eyelid, tracing the tears running down his cheek, to his jaw, then to the other eyelid. 

There’s sense in picking up his tears and making them her own. 

“It will be our secret interpretation,” she says. 

He takes her by the waist, smirking in his last attempt to let go of the baggage. Stares at her for a second too long, like he keeps arguing with himself to say something.

“I love you, too.”

The words leave her speechless - she always chose to feel loved when he held her close every night.

He laughs, his fingers interlacing with each other on her back, so he can’t let her go. “I’m sorry I never said them before.”

She cocks him a half-smile. “Why didn’t you?”

“I…” He shrugs. “I knew this was all real but when you told me that, I honestly started to question if I was in a dream. That I’d wake up and find myself in darkness, like I was experiencing a fantasy I wanted.”

“Terra,” she smacks him on the chest. “That’s depressing.”

“I just didn’t know why.”

“Why?”

“Yes, why you love me.”

She kisses him, long, hard, sweet. “That’s why.”

… It’s like someone has been watching a show and was just waiting for the prime opportunity to interrupt. 

“Looks like no one’s been missing us,” Ventus says from behind her, Chirithy along for the ride, getting a front-seat view. 

It makes her jump and whip around, nearly melting in Terra’s arms out of embarrassment. 

“Ven,” she calls, half-relieved, half-shocked, mostly hot-faced as she picks up speed to give him a well-deserved _Welcome Back_ hug. Terra follows with a rough rustle through the hair, like he’s been dying to do it for months. 

“Please be sure,” Chirithy says, “to behave more _appropriately_ in front of the students when they get here.”

Aqua brings her hand to her chest like she just heard something scandalous - Chirithy is way more responsibility than a house cat, almost like having a nagging teacher around that they have to feed and bathe and brush. 

“I’m sorry, Cheers, I just didn’t know,” she says, to keep the peace, scratching under its chin like an olive branch. 

Terra gives her a look, a smirk that says he’s quite proud of himself. Yes, let’s pretend they haven’t been kissing for months and that no one has seen anything. 

“It looks so great!” Ventus says about their handiwork. 

“We had a lot of fun,” Terra says, bringing his hands back into his pockets.

Ventus has a huge, ornate book that looks like it has been written 500 years ago in one arm, and he opens it. “I think it’s missing something.”

“You’re not ruining it.”

He waves his arm in dismissal. “I know what I’m doing.”

After reading to himself, he takes a look around, then back down to the page. Then back up. “We’ll need the lights off, please.”

He then prepares himself in front of the mural, re-checking his book and noticing that he can’t read it anymore because it’s too dark. 

It would be nice to add Ven into such a precious project, but come on.

“Terra’s right,” Aqua says. “If you ruin it, you’re done for.”

“I get it,” Ventus says. He turns over his shoulder. “Just don’t make out behind me.”

“Get on with it,” Terra says, taking his place next to Aqua. 

Ventus sighs, takes a moment. 

“You can do it,” Chirithy squeaks, “teach him he is wrong.”

Teach who he is wrong?

Ven conjures a ball of light, grabs it, waves it, and throws, making it burst into a spray of sparks, each landing on one of Terra’s stars, adding bright shine to them and a glitter effect to the stardust. 

“Ven, it’s wonderful,” Aqua says, nearly being moved to tears. She stops herself, bringing a finger to her face and looking over at Terra, who is wide-eyed at her and points a finger like he’s telling her to watch. 

It’s been a long time since all of them smiled like this. 

“HA!” Ventus exclaims, and it makes her jump. He slams the book closed. “This will show him.”

“What is this about?” she asks.

“I’ve been with him for _months_ and he didn’t think I was capable of doing this.” He brings his gummiphone out, to take a picture. “I swore I’d make him eat his words.”

“You’ve shown all of us,” Terra says, nudging Aqua on the arm. “I’m completely jealous.”

“Yes,” Aqua says, shoving him back before accepting an arm around her. “I am, too.”

“It will now shine at night like this forever,” Ven says. He’s proud of himself, and he should be. “Something for the students to look at whenever they want.”

“We’ll have stars indoors when it’s storming out,” Aqua says, leaning her head onto Terra’s. 

“The best gift ever.” Terra slips his fingers in between hers, in the dark, where Ven can’t see (but Ven can assume correctly that it’s happening). 

In the mountains, summer nights are clear. The perfect shade of blue skies, a balance of cool breezes to scare away the heat, begging for noise and campfires. 

Stardust will bless the castle, trees will dance in the wind. In the wish for a future, there’s a halo of white to protect a painting of childish dreams.


	4. Take That Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terra is a terrible dancer - but he's fantastic at dancing around his feelings, and it drives Ven crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'm usually a meticulous planner and take notes on notes on notes for a few months before I start writing but I literally ran out of time for this prompt. This is therefore the only fic I have ever free-written off the bat and just decided to have fun with. xDDD When I edited it last night, it didn't come across as though it was completely messy or all over the place, but if it kind of sounds that way, that's why haha. *runs and hides*
> 
> This fic is a gift to my lovely friend, Lyssala, whose work not only inspires me but she's been such an amazing friend on this journey, who believes in me and my work, who listens to me during the rough nights, and who has helped me improve in my writing without ever looking down on my work or comparing me to someone else, not once. She has always made me feel like I spent my efforts well, and that's so important to me. I'm so glad I connected with her in this chaotic, lonely world of fic-writing. Thank you so, so much Lyssa!!!

“You know,” Ventus says, in an impish sort of way, “they say that dance is the hidden language of the heart.” 

There isn’t a good reason for him to speak to Terra this way - it’s code for _Hey Terra, if you’re too scared to tell Aqua how you feel, just dance with her. It’s easy. _

And the glare Terra gives back says, _Please shut up. She’s standing right over there. _

The nerve of the slight fluctuations in Ven’s voice to imply (even by exaggerated standards) that Terra is too scared...

Terra, who sat in darkness for twelve years. Terra, who fought side by side with everyone else at the Keyblade War. Terra, who had the inner strength to face Xehanort and not let himself go to the whims of rage.

And yes, Terra the Brave, who is so intimidated by his best friend that he can’t find the courage to tell her how he’s been kicking himself all this time for never confessing that he wants to kiss her. He still can’t. 

Both people are one and the same.

Aqua sends them a smirk but doesn’t say anything… it’s _only_ times like these when Terra reconsiders whether he can read her like a book anymore. How in the world is she interpreting this?

She switches out one vinyl disc for another in the ballroom’s record player, which before the war and the tragedies, was her favorite room to spend her time. 

“Another song, Ven,” she asks, starting the player up.

He’s her official dance partner (according to him). What a joy it was for her after he arrived to the Land of Departure for the very first time and they find out he really likes to move to music.

Eraqus tried to find the time to humor her but was always too busy. 

Terra… at first was uninterested, and then couldn’t compose himself at the thought of being that close to her for extended periods of time. Thanks, puberty.

Sometimes he wonders if he should suck it up and act his age (Twenty? Thirty-two?). 

For the moment, he stands by the sidelines and watches them waltz together. The lounge chair is comfortable, a wooden cane he made for himself leaning idly by the armrest…

“You don’t want to join in?” Ven asks (yells, it’s a ballroom). 

Aqua is hesitant enough that they both stop in their tracks, a song of rhythmic horns and pretentious violins rocking out without a care in the background.

Terra decides that he hates questions with multiple, loaded, nuanced answers. 

_You don’t want to join in?_ as in _Terra, you could be getting some action right now._

And-

_You don’t want to join in?_ as in _Terra, maybe some moving around will be good for you, sure you’re ok?_

“Sure,” he announces, glancing at his cane and deciding, ultimately, that he won’t need it right now.

Symptoms are strange and erratic. Some days, his body is fine with his exercises, his spars, his runs, his squats and every attempt he makes at keeping up a rigorous schedule like he used to - though he’s nowhere near his prior peak. Then all of a sudden, it gives out, acting like he’s refused to listen to it. It’s a long adjustment just to respect the fact that he’s fatigued all the time.

Aqua starts a silent exchange with him: a look over to see how he’s doing as he stands up, a narrow of her eyes to ask if he’s one hundred percent certain.

He gives her a calm smile in return and she gets it, making room for him by her side.

When worry leaves her face, it’s willed away. She really tries her best. “You remember what to do?” she asks.

His answer is a slow shrug. “All I remember is where to place my hands.”

Ventus sniggers. “I bet.”

It’s already hard enough to keep a straight face around her, but if this damn brat keeps talking…

Aqua rolls her lips in, which in turn makes Terra’s heart beat a little faster, which _then_ makes him wonder if she’s interpreting anything out of Ven’s comment.

Whatever, just keep focused and it’ll blow over.

They start with the posture: her right hand to his left, the others on shoulders - 

“You’re supposed to hold her waist,” Ventus corrects (with a smirk). Which is probably true, but it still makes Terra want to backhand him.

Aqua _tsks_, her gaze somewhere in discussion with a faraway thought. “I know the guy is supposed to lead the dance but...”

Ven’s eyes go wide, a slow nod like a professor who is understanding something profound. “Yeah, that would be a disaster.”

So Aqua’s hand wraps around Terra’s waist instead.

“Very subtle,” Terra says.

“What do you mean?” He might be overthinking it, but there’s a rosy glow to her cheeks. 

“You’ve always thought I sucked at dancing.”

“That’s not true.” She rolls her lips in again and dammit, it’s _cute_. “Those rules were dumb and I know better.”

So she guides him, patient each and every time she tells him that he’s supposed to time his foot at _one_, switch over after _three_. She keeps the rhythm by counting sometimes and letting him feel it out for himself in others. He appreciates that she doesn’t mock the fact he’s staring at their feet the entire time.

Letting her get so engrossed with the movement is good for her. He hears it in her voice, the joy skipping through her words, which is such a welcome sound after listening to months of dry melancholy that the Realm of Darkness has beaten into her. 

The song ends, letting another with a completely different rhythm take its place and Aqua says that they can simply rock back and forth to this if he wants to keep going - as long as he’s feeling okay. 

It’s subtle indeed when she maneuvers their outstretched hands to fold inwards so he can hold them near his chest. 

Now he can steal glances at her face, at the way she leans into him. He’s wrestling with a stupid grin that he can’t contain, and he feels it fighting to stay plastered to his face. 

Not to mention, Aqua has surely been so much more forward since she’s been back from the Realm of Darkness, taking this slow dance as an opportunity to study his face - _really_ study it in fact. She’s close enough that he can clearly see her eyes taking in all his features, wearing the dorkiest grin he’s seen on her.

“Do I have something on my face?” 

“No.” She rolls her lips in before popping them out.

“Ah.” He nods, taking a break from looking at her to try to straighten his smile. “So do you want to continue to stare at me?”

Master Aqua, Keeper of Calm Demeanors, finds herself caught off guard, eyes wide first before they dart somewhere else, a laugh barely escaping before she contains it, cheeks getting redder and redder like a ripening tomato.

It’s always good news to find a new weakness with her. It’s the best tease. 

He whips her around, throwing her weight entirely on the breadth of his arm, lowering her near-parallel to the floor in a drop. Like a fancy pose. Or at least he hopes it looks like that.

“Terra!” she laughs through her teeth, and he almost wants to lower her more so her short hair can scrape the floor.

Their noses are inches apart.

“Now you have a better vantage point to look,” he says. 

“Pfft,” she glances to her side, like she’s almost too shy - which isn’t like her. “Terra, you’re supposed to do this when the music gets dramatic.”

He hasn’t been listening to the music, his heart has been pounding into his ears. What’s been playing is a lullaby, soft and gentle. 

“It’s at least a good photo op,” Ven’s voice interrupts.

Terra’s been enjoying Aqua so much that he jerks his head to find Ven at the lounge chair, playing with his cane. 

When he is noticed, Ven raises his eyebrows, mocking shock as he brings his hand to his face. “Oh, did you forget me? It happens quite a lot nowadays.” He sets the cane down with a tap. “You take the phrase _‘Dance like no one’s watching’_ to a whole new level.”

Terra clears his throat, heat uncomfortably finding solace in his cheeks. He brings Aqua up, though it’s not as easy as it used to be, his arms trembling as he does so. 

Immediately she brushes her hair with fingers, fiddles with her sashes like she needs to straighten them but in reality she’s really doing nothing. Except refuse to look anyone in the eye, a tiny smile betraying every feeling she’s trying to keep safe. 

Terra breathes heavily, and now she’s brave enough to face him. “You okay?” She has one arm outstretched in the direction of his cane, and Ven is ready to hand it over.

“Nah, I’m fine.” He rolls his shoulders, telling himself it’s just adrenaline coursing through his arms. He nods over to Ven - that’s always his strategy to recuperate: change the subject. “How did I do?” 

Ven shrugs. “You did okay. That ending sucked, though.”

* * *

This castle is too big for only three people, if the dust building in the seldom-ventured rooms are anything to go by. This wouldn’t be a problem if they have students to roam around, which is another reason to keep things clean - invite them over and give them a nice place to live (and take care of).

Because Terra gets too fatigued easily, Ventus usually shares on the responsibility. Terra gets to scrub the tables in the lounge where they are at now, while Ven takes the floor, both barefoot to avoid crummy stains.

Terra curses his body right this second - if he could clean all by himself, he wouldn’t have to listen to his friend’s nagging.

“I don’t know why you’re not doing anything about it,” Ven says, dipping his sponge into his pail of suddy water and squeezing.

Terra keeps his focus on the surface. “I don’t know why it’s any of your business.”

Ven scoffs. “I’ve been watching the two of you ever since I came here.”

This makes Terra turn around. “What’s that supposed to- Ven, we didn’t ignore you back then… Did we?”

“No, of course not.” He waves his arm in dismissal. “But the way you look at me and the way you look at _her_ have never been the same thing.”

If Ven’s noticed this, then surely Aqua has?

Terra goes back to his table, being the only person in this entire world to have no one really understand him. There’s nothing normal about his body anymore, feeling achy, exhausted and sore like he’s an old man already when he shouldn’t be. Normal is what he wants most. Talking to Aqua about these feelings - it’s uncharted territory, where he’d have to be on alert all the time, and he’s learned that there’s a certain beauty to being able to peacefully enjoy his days. 

“I’m just trying to be respectful to her.” That should be enough of an answer.

“Seriously?” Where does Ven get the nerve to sound this exasperated? “That’s fair and all, but you can’t be _that_ dense.”

That sounds suggestive, almost like maybe Aqua had said something to Ven… Nah, it’s a fleeting fantasy. 

“You know what,” Ven continues, “why don’t I set you up with a romantic dinner?”

“You can’t cook.” Terra looks over his shoulder. “And you missed a spot,” he spits.

“I did not.”

“You should go check.”

“You should not change the subject.”

“Ven, if you keep at this, I will mop the floor with you.”

“Oh puh-lease.” He’s letting his sponge overflow with soap, spilling over and build into a puddle in front of him. “You might still have the muscles, but I’ve got new moves and I bet I can take you on.”

Terra has his own pail, sitting innocently next to him on the surface of the table. Terra takes this pail and jerks it, splashing all the soapy goodness onto his best friend, the water cascading off his poor little shoulders, his spiked blond hair now gripping for dear life on his face, his clothes droopy and pathetic.

Ven spits excess water out of his mouth and wipes it, but he’s so soaked it doesn’t help. “Terra, what the-”

“I meant that literally.” Terra grabs the boy by the ankles, and begins wide sweeps around the room with as much force as he can muster, fast enough that Ven’s hair, quite like a literal mop, drags on the floor in laps. 

“_Terra!_” Ven’s laughing, his attempt to kick off the grip completely futile, hurling his arms anywhere to see if he can grab something. 

He has one success, grabbing the leg of the table which only does so much until it starts to loudly drag along with him. 

“Let go of me!” Ven shouts in between his chortles, his shirt climbing up until it covers his face and he shivers from the cold water on his exposed stomach. 

“Apologize first.”

“Aqua, help!” He lets go of the table, pulling his shirt back down, spitting a ball of bubbles. 

A laugh of his own turns into a shake of his knees down to a wobble of his ankles, where Terra’s last ounce of strength huffs out of his body and he slips, backwards. 

Ven’s ruined hairdo is even funnier. Terra helps himself to it, ruffling a tornado through that soaked mess so that he makes a huge ringlet where that usual spike would normally go. 

“It looks dumb, doesn’t it?” Ven asks through a smile that makes his face look like a baby’s. 

Terra cocks his head. “Yep.”

He shoos Terra’s hand away, flattening the curl in between his palms and irons it out. It looks worse now but if Ven doesn’t know, then it won’t offend him. 

Terra at least tries to get up, but yeah, he’s gotten himself really tired this time. It was worth the laugh, though. 

“I’ll clean up,” Ven cheerfully offers, already standing up.

“No, I can help, I just need a minute.” 

“Yeah right.” A shove from Ven feels like bulldozer to his shoulder, so there on the floor where the water soaks through his pants, Terra has to stay. 

Is it embarrassing to watch Ventus finish the room by himself? Most definitely, and maybe somewhere Terra might actually need some guidance in his life, someone to help him even though he doesn’t want to take it. A lot has changed in their lives already - if Eraqus was still around, this room wouldn’t be so filthy to begin with, for example. 

* * *

He’s walking with his cane now, but it really was worth the laugh. Newly showered with an annoying pain shooting down from his elbows to his fingertips, he’s tired but satisfied. Aqua can’t help but notice his limping and escorts him to the library, where there’s a nice couch to lounge on and a fireplace that’s more comfortable. 

It’s really late at night, too. Insomnia is right on schedule. 

“You’re not sleeping either?” she asks when she takes a seat next to him. 

He leans into the backrest. Fluffy couches are the best. “Nah… well maybe. We’ll see. I’m exhausted.”

“I can’t either.” She says it with such confidence that tonight has to be a bad one for her. That happens. Other nights are better.

She has her notebook with her - whether it’s a diary, a personal calendar, or a collection of to-do lists, he doesn’t know, even after the years (decades now?) of knowing her. Opening it to a page, there’s a simple table: a litter of tally marks under his name and under hers. She adds one to each: nights they cannot sleep.

“I’m still ahead of you,” she says, bringing the tip of the notebook to her lips. 

He snorts - it’s not really a game he wants her to win when she deserves better. But that’s the inevitable part of life, right? Pain will happen, might as well make a good pastime out of it. “I’ll catch up.”

His fist feels stiff, a numbness tingling in his fingers. It’s not the best feeling to stretch his fingers and move them around, but it’s easier to bend the wrist.

“Are you in pain?” 

“Sure am.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be rough-housing Ven so much.”

“Maybe you should teach Ven the joys of keeping his mouth shut.”

“It’s why we love him.” She folds her legs, leaning over to brush her fingertips against his skin, pressing in several areas to read where his tendons are swollen. It’s harmful to massage the bones, so she always starts somewhere else on his arm when his hands act up, gently rubbing the muscle first before going deeper. In times like these, she’s his strength when he doesn’t have any.

The massage may hurt, but he won’t complain about anything to do with Aqua touching him.

There she is again, though, her hands doing their job but she’s staring at his face.

“What now?”

She thinks for a moment and judging from her expression, she’s going to tell the truth this time. 

“You have a very specific smile that shows _only_ when you’re nervous.”

“Oh, really?” She does know him too well, he’s as jitty as a bug right now. She’s touching him after all. 

She keeps a giggle to herself. “It contorts enough to give you dimples.” 

His breath hitches. “It does not.” With his free hand, he digs his fingers into his face, massaging hard enough to get to his gums and force-relax his mouth. 

It’s not like he’s admitting anything, but his reaction gives her enough of an indication to smile wider.

“So what are you nervous about?”

This is a hard one to lie out of. “There’s a lot of things. If I’m ever going to beat Ven at a race again, or… if I can’t fight like my prime anymore. You know?” He’s still rubbing his face.

Aqua leans over to match his eyes; he hasn’t been looking at her directly. “Is that all?”

He tries to smile - he doesn’t know what he looks like but he bets he has dimples now. 

Something serious comes across Aqua’s mind and her smile falls. She’s still beautiful, but it’s not as much of an enjoyable image to witness. “There are a lot of things, you’re right, that we haven’t talked about.”

He sighs. Haven’t they talked about everything? 

Definitely not the nitty-gritty details, but the most necessary ones, yes. It’s unpleasant to venture into that territory: so many tears that can’t be comforted, so many questions that don’t have answers, so much anger that can’t be remedied because there’s so much that can’t be undone. 

But if she needs a listening ear, she has one in him.

“Like what?” he asks gently, almost wanting to take her hand but she’s so focused on doing a decent job in relieving his pain. 

“Things,” she starts, taking so much of a pause that she stops massaging him. Her words come out slowly, like she’s taking a risky step for each of them. “Like, between us. You know?”

He holds his breath, because if he breathes then he’s going to hyperventilate. “Really?” he asks with too much enthusiasm, like a bad actor. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, Terra.”

He was going to say something dumb like _That’s why they call me Terra_ but there’s a significance to her voice that calls for serious attention. 

“I don’t…” Maybe he should be honest this time? “I don’t know what to do or say.”

Aqua works down his forearm, feeling for signs of inflammation, bulges, hardness where it should be more soft, before gliding her hand over his. Rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs, taking fingers in hers. She takes all this time to prepare herself.

“It seems, Terra,” she says with a summoned courage, “that this entire time you’ve been waiting for my permission, I’ve just been waiting for you to kiss me.”

It’s so quiet in the room that a pin could be dropped and he would hear it. She’s there, staring at his hand after her words leave her mouth, and he’s there staring at her like he’s been deaf to them.

If he doesn’t do anything now, then Ventus will _surely_ have a good reason to give him a thousand and one lectures. Lesson learned.

He takes her chin with one hand and properly places his other on her waist. His kiss is apprehensive, softly brushing before slowly pressing, learning the way her lips curve against his, where they flatten, where they stay supple. 

Her breath is relieved when she leans back into him, her fingers now in his hair, like she’s thirsty.

It makes him part his lips - ever so slightly - but it’s exactly what she wants, taking him in like she desperately needs to be quenched. Like they’ve been practiced at this sort of thing. 

Except they really aren’t. They hit each other’s teeth. They jerk back from the pain, a line of saliva connecting their mouths. The moment they see it, they scramble to clean themselves up. He will _never ever ever_ speak of this to anyone else. 

“Mmm,” he says like he thinks she’s delicious while she nervously (so many giggles, so many) hides her face in his collarbone. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he says into her hair. 

She lightly smacks his chest. “I was too nervous to bring it up, and I questioned whether you did when we were growing up.” She pulls away, staying close and studying the pores on his nose. There won’t be any dimples there. “I figured when we got back that… I don’t know. Screw it, we’ve wasted so much time.”

A giddy Aqua rolls her lips inward. “Now, I can scratch that off my bucket list,” she says.

He snorts. “Kissing me was one of your life goals?”

He reaches for her notebook - there has to be some sort of confessional in it. But slick Aqua, Master of Evasion, catches it before him and casually tosses it somewhere where the glow of the fireplace can’t reach. 

She kisses him on the cheek, like it’s compensation.

“I’m okay with that,” he decides.

“You’re okay with us?”

“I’m more than okay with us, don’t kid around with me.”

“Good. Should we tell Ven?”

The answer he wants to give is yes. “He really wanted to be our matchmaker, though.”

She snorts. “We could let him think he did everything.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Aqua takes one more look over his face, something new like excitement in her eyes, like she’s found faith. She takes his other hand, the one that hasn’t been massaged yet. “Let me help you with this one.”

“No, wait.” He holds her tighter around her waist, not wanting to put any distance in between them for now. “Stay here.” 

He lets her take his hand anyway, like they’re preparing to waltz in the couch. But he takes the lead this time, and there’s no reason to move just yet, just let them breathe into their bodies and let the gentle warmth from the fire calm his muscles first. He asks for more kisses, and she responds in kind. It takes time before she berates him to _Give up his other hand, he needs it massaged_ before he gives in and sacrifices the cuddles - at least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End note: The headcanon of Terra having dimples is a trademark of Lyssa's - her work is pure gold. It's just the most charming and endearing thing to read. <333


	5. stay awake. love, sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are made to be had, broken, and mended. Terra finds he still has his own, even in the thicket of his nightmares.
> 
> For the Dreams prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first and last scenes were supposed to be part of my painting fic (for the Seasons prompt of this week) which I thought I could push through to my star fic and then eventually got deleted. It felt good to be able to put in the dream sequence in-between and finally give these ideas new life. It's been a long, long time (since my high school days) that I've dipped into Absurdism so I'm very rusty on that front and I think I would have done a decent job if I had the time but I hope it's okay for now haha.

Just because the War is over, it doesn’t mean that everything is fixed. 

The Land of Departure may look like it’s in pristine shape, and for the most part it is. It’s missing one body, but all in all, it looks like everything has stayed in place, almost like it couldn’t exist without its proper inhabitants and therefore never aged. Like magic, it comes back. Like destiny, it sits there waiting for them to come home.

Things are only broken because they’re slightly different. Terra and Aqua are not equals anymore. 

In certain ways, they still are of course. She doesn’t want him to think of her as his superior. In all personal matters - in the kitchen, in bed, in friendship - they’re equals. 

Not with matters of the Keyblade though, and he remembers it every day. 

It’s time to address the elephant in the room: What are their futures going to be like now? 

Are there specifics? Does Aqua solely become Keeper of the castle? Can she share that with Terra or does he have to be a Master first? Should they consider Terra a Master already?

They stand in the entrance hall, where three wooden thrones sit patiently, in silence. 

Here, the awkward question is, _Who takes the middle seat?_

“You should take it,” Terra says. 

Aqua immediately shakes her head, giving him a look of sympathy. “Terra, you knew him longest.”

“You’re still Master.”

“I honestly…” These words are going to be the hardest to hear, because they’re the easiest to deny. “I think the Master would have wanted you to sit there.”

Ventus stands by her side, shooting the both of them side glances because _Yes, approaching the subject of who the Master favorited (Terra) will always be awkward._

For the favorite, he sure has had the most difficult expectations set onto his shoulders, and it’s a good twelve years of believing that he really fucked up last time. Aqua’s right but still - Eraqus was incredibly proud of her, and would still be, and would have wanted her to take his throne.

“Technically,” Ventus drawls out, “the middle is _my_ seat. I’m the only one who bonded with it this entire time.” 

“So do you want it, Ven?” Aqua asks, like she wants to be rid of it.

“No way.” He crosses his arms. “I never want to sit there again.”

Dead end. 

Terra goes ahead to take the seat to the left, ultimately ending the discussion. Gestures over to the middle.

When Aqua takes it, she’s very hesitant. Ventus, usually the last one to decide, has no other choice but to sit on the one to the right. 

Ventus wiggles and stretches, like he’s trying to see if it fits him even though they’re all the same. “S’not bad.”

Aqua keeps her hands folded on her lap, like she has the proper regal formality for such a grand seat - if only she wasn’t looking so defeated. 

“You know, Aqua,” Terra says, playing with the marble texture of the arm rests. It’s not a comfortable seat by any means. “I never got to congratulate you.”

“For?”

“Becoming Master.” He wants to reach over and take her hand, because he needs comfort to deal with what he’s so ashamed of. But this isn’t about him, it’s about her. So he smiles. “Congratulations.”

Ventus brings his feet under and sits on his ankles, swinging over to face her. “Congratulations!” 

She doesn’t want the praise. “Please, don’t-”

“Why not?” It’s hard to be happy when she’s like this.

“This isn’t what I wanted.”

Terra nearly does a double take. “What are you-”

“The point was that _both_ of us became Masters,” she says with conviction. “That was _our_ dream.”

Again, such an awkward conversation, and Ventus sinks back into his throne, bringing his knees to his chin to shy away from it. Most of the time, it’s about the three of them, always, an unbreakable connection. There are certainly times when he’s the third wheel, though, unintentionally eavesdropping into matters that have really nothing to do with him. 

Terra knows she doesn’t mean what she’s implying. He knows it. He knows it, he keeps telling himself. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She sighs, glancing over at Ven. She really hates leaving him out of conversations. “I was thinking maybe I’d renounce my title-”

“No.”

“I fell to darkness, too, Terra.”

“You deserve to be praised for your hard work.”

“What does it mean anyway?”

“It means you’ve survived things I could never have.”

He could never have, not the Realm of Darkness. He doesn’t have that kind of strength. 

It’s not that he feels necessarily _insulted_ by the thought of her holding herself back for his sake, but that he’s guilty because she’s done too much for him. Not on any single fiber in his entire body would he ask her to suffer hell for him, but she did it anyway. She keeps telling him that she’d do it again if it meant he’d be safe. So yes, to hold herself back in a way is a slap to the face, because on some level he needs to get his shit together. Enough has to be enough, and he wishes that she’d let him pick himself up.

Of course, none of what she’s doing is meant to put him down… twelve years separated means that the both of them still suck at elaborating what they mean, and in these sticky situations, the best thing to do is to give the benefit of the doubt. 

“Besides, it fits you very nicely,” he says, forcing himself to smile. It’s only difficult at the first try, then it settles into his face and relaxes. He gets up from the throne, outstretching his hand for her to take. Glances at Ven as well, thinking of anything that could get him involved. “Maybe throw a small celebration for you, too.” 

Ventus stares at him wide-eyed, like he’s too scared to say anything right now.

Aqua doesn’t take his hand. “Why won’t you let me name you Master, then? You’ve been through a lot, too.”

“I want to do it the traditional way.” His hand stays in the air, waiting. 

“Terra,” she says softly, “you know you don’t have to prove anything to me.” 

“It’s not to you.” It’s to himself. 

She sighs - it’s been a strife to get her to agree and actually give him an exam, since she believes he’s putting himself down. In his mind, he needs the opportunity to stand up. 

Aqua takes his hand and rubs it with her thumb, her gaze falling to his knees. 

“I promise you,” he says sweetly - they may both be hard-headed, but the need to make her smile always trumps. “That dream is closer than you think.”

She scoffs, and he swears that whatever breath Ven has been holding this entire time is finally set free. 

* * *

_If you really think about it, dreams don’t have beginnings. They just happen. _

A chessboard, mix and match black and white spaces, sprawled for miles under a purple sky with no clouds. 

Chess pieces at chest height. 

Black against white.

White is her, _all_ of them, moving past him, approaching him, dodging _many_ hims, in fact. 

“No,” he says.

But he moves anyway. He has no other instinct. 

Sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he’s a knight.

A knight is what she is too, a spear cradled in her arms. 

She’s sleeping as he approaches. 

She only opens her eyes when he stops to her left. 

“No,” he says.

But it doesn’t matter, because he swings that sword.

She wears the mask of despair but she doesn’t cry, like a satire. 

Watch her as she blows up into a million dusty pieces.

Terra has a nasty habit, who is he to kill her when she’s the one he loves the most?

Many hims killing many hers because whoever is playing him in this game is pretty good. 

The white queen comes, twice as tall as him, with a staff held high like she’s a saint leading a crowd.

She holds scales on the other, and the feather in one of them is too heavy.

“We’re supposed to be on the same side,” he says. 

She opens her eyes. White on white on white, no irises.

“You spoke?” she asks before she strikes him down. 

Chess has only one hit point.

_Dreams don’t have endings, either._

* * *

“It’s a bad dream,” she whispers to him before he finally allows himself to breathe. 

Shivers, headaches, sobs, and stiff muscles - so much that his whole body hurts. 

Not to mention the fear of being alive and all the other damned symptoms that come with the nightmares.

She waits to hear his breaths slow down into a crawl before she wraps his fingers in hers - they both know, from experience unfortunately, that accidentally scaring him is a bad idea. 

“Welcome home,” she coos into his neck, her fingers brushing his hair. “I’m happy you’re safe. You’re here with me. Whatever it is, it can’t harm you here.”

Reminders. He needs them, and she needs them. 

He groans. He can barely remember what the nightmare was except for the nauseating suspicion that he has done something terrible.

“You’re okay?” he asks her, like he’s expecting her to be hurt.

She chuckles, stroking him arm. Her voice is hoarse with exhaustion. “Of course I am. The question is, are you?”

He doesn’t answer her. 

Usually after his nightmares, his needs are random and yet, predictable. A walk in the woods. Some water. A bath with her. To be read a story. To beat on the pillows. Yell. Cry. Tell some jokes.

She doesn’t question any of his whims, choosing to stay by his side for whatever he needs.

Tonight, he wraps around her, feeling the softness of her skin, which he’s glad is nothing like porcelain. Keep her close, keep her locked tight. He takes the blankets and layers them on top of her, and she has this amused grin on her face as he does so - if this is what he needs, she’ll play along and not ask what on earth he’s doing. He wraps her enough that if anything were to strike, it’d hit his arms first. Intertwine her legs with his to keep her extra secure. 

She replies with soft kisses on his cheek and deep sniffs of his hair, and he waits until she’s asleep first to be extra sure.

* * *

He feels better in the morning, when he runs laps in the courtyard, still so early that the sun hasn’t yet broken through the fog.

He feels better after a shower and some coffee, even though it still doesn’t make him feel like that much of an adult.

He feels better when he sees Aqua still sleeping in his bed - she normally likes to wake up early too, but when he has bad nights that interrupt her, her body demands its rest. It’s good knowing that he hasn’t ruined everything for her - she looks so comfortable bundled up in those layers. 

He feels better when he gently kisses her cheek and leaves her to dream, finding someplace in the library to spend time reading books.

Being a Keyblade Wielder is not just about knowing how to fight with it; that’s what all these books are for. Who knows how many are in here, maybe thousands? He’s read most of them but these days he still needs answers. 

He sifts through ones he’s read before, to see if all this experience might give him a completely new perspective on the battle between darkness and light (white and black). He’s also looking for ones he’s never seen before, hoping that there is some answer in there to help him sleep at night. 

No luck.

It’s only when footsteps approach that he realizes he’s been obsessing and lost track of time. Again.

“Look what I found,” Aqua announces, displaying a long wooden box with a rusty brass lock. 

Keyblade Wielders believe in light. They believe in the stars, which teach them that light will shine down even among a dark sky. Sometimes, their wise lessons are rough, heartbreaking, confusing. 

Sometimes, the stars think they’re funny when they’re trying to be serendipitous. 

“The Master’s old chess board,” Terra answers.

She sets it down on the table, and with the careful way she’s opening it, Terra can tell that she had waited until he was with her before peeking inside. 

It’s in surprisingly good condition, the spaces clean (with one side chipped, Terra can’t remember who did that), and the pieces pristine in each of their unique designs. It smells musty, very much like the Master if he was close enough to hug. 

“It makes me really miss him,” she says and she might as well speak for the both of them. 

There’s so many good memories over this game - the Master never allowed room for any arguments, any disagreements. This game was strictly a test for analysis, for nerve, for patience. Even when playing opposing teams, this game is and will only ever be made for friends. 

Terra and Aqua of course played against each other but their favorite version is when they tag-teamed against the Master. 

Young children would break the rule that banned arguing, ordering each other which piece should go where, but with enough vigilance (and enough years), Terra and Aqua learned to _trust_. Don’t tell the other where to go, watch for clues of what they’re thinking, let it be and have faith that their partner has a plan and if it changes, hopefully it’s for the best. 

Besides, if they sat there discussing all of their strategies in detail, then the Master would know (not that it helped, he always won). They used to hope that one day, they’ll finally beat him.

Eraqus was a man who kept his personal life very private, and it’s one of their lingering questions - who taught him to be so good? They’ll never know. 

“We’ll never be able to tag-team again,” she says to Terra, setting up the game and putting the pieces in their proper places. Twelve years did not make her forget. 

“We could on Ven,” he says, before realizing how dumb that sounds.

“We’d pulverize him.” She shakes her head compassionately.

The board is prepared, and she spins it, giving Terra the white pieces.

“That means you’ll go first,” she says.

Every game of chess, at least to him, starts off pretty plain, but she’s an aggressive player. A sinking feeling in his stomach burns when he takes one of hers, but she always comes around to show him who’s boss.

Not that he particularly cares about winning this time.

“We used to pretend to _be_ the pieces when we were little,” he says, a memory coming to defend him from the more gruesome images from the dream last night. “Remember?”

She’s about to put down a black rook but stops herself to laugh. “We did, wow, I completely forgot.”

“That would put you today as… I guess the Queen? Queen and Master of the castle,” he announces, using a bishop to take her pawn.

“And that would make you…” she makes a condescending face. “The King? You sure you want to be that one?”

Even pawns are better - he can sacrifice one for the good of many, and sometimes they can become Queens themselves, like a backup. 

Take the King and it’s over. 

“No, he’s completely useless. I’ll be your other Queen.”

She lifts a black knight into the air, above the board. “We wanted to be knights together.”

“That’s right.” He holds up a white knight, crossing it with hers. “Knights that would save the worlds and all other Kings and Queens out there.”

“What do you think? We’re still knights?”

“Hm.” Sometimes, more than he likes to admit, he thinks of her as his superior, like he isn’t good enough and never will be and there’s no telling why she would settle for him. But this is a horrible thought, and she’s his partner. Always, they said to each other. “We’re still knights.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Good.” She uses her knight to take one of his pawns - putting his own Queen into a precarious situation. “Now we just have to prepare your Mark of Mastery exam.” 

Terra takes a sharp inhale - layers his arms over the surface of the table and for some odd reason, he’s nearly moved to tears. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“You’re very welcome.” She waits for his move.

But he bides his time. “How do I know I’ll get a fair assessment when I’m sleeping with the Master who’s conducting it?”

She bites her lip, watching him knock her knight out of the board with his trusty white bishop. “I’ve thought about that and… I’ve decided to invite Riku to help me run the exam. He’ll watch you and promised to give his honest opinion.”

For a moment he forgets what his gaming strategy is supposed to be as she moves another knight. “That’s honestly a great idea. He’s better at this stuff than the both of us really.”

“He is, the little prodigy.” 

Aqua’s now distracted and has neglected to really protect her Queen. He moves a knight in. “That has to be the easiest checkmate I’ve ever experienced,” he proclaims leaning back as his hands interlace behind his head. 

“Well, you’ve cheated.”

“How?”

“Because I wasn’t at my A-game.”

“You’re such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one.” She leans on her hands, biting her lip and it makes him want to bend over and kiss her. Thinking of doing that over the Master’s ancient, precious chess game seems violating, though.

But it’s moments like these where it gets him to think that there’s not a definite timeline for dreaming. Some will wait, others will pass, and there are some that morph and become different.

Here is Aqua though, in her grace, companionship and loyalty to him, making dreams come true. He feels better.


	6. they glimmer in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve done so well to move on, but reminders of Xehanort and what has happened to them keep rearing their ugly heads. Aqua has a really bad day. 
> 
> For the Stormy Weather prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes have a long history with me. They started out in my original timeline for the Aquanort fic, but were then moved for my star fic, and then deleted again. I'm just so relieved to finally get them out in someway, because I've been so attached to them for over a year now. <3

When a bad day occurs, it can happen without reason. What starts as a normal breakfast can become a yell down the hall, spooked by an imaginary shadow too dark for the morning.**  
**

Sometimes, there’s a perfectly good explanation.

Aqua likes to manage breakfast on her own: getting up bright and early to focus on something menial - instead of whatever dream she had last night - is productive. She’ll usually leave Terra to sleep in, always out the door by the time he’s searching the bed for her. 

It’s therapeutic: eggs in an egg-sized skillet to push the bad dreams of last night away; the smell of crispy bacon with extra pepper to make her forget the Master’s passing. It’s always short-lived but the kitchen is a holy space that does wonders for her mind. 

Unbeknownst to her so far, today will be a bad day. She’ll see it the moment she walks through the door to the Master’s office.

“Terra, you ok?”

It’s the twisted nose, the furrowed eyebrows, the grit of his teeth. He’s about to cry, looking at a humongous leather bound book that she’s never seen before.

“I try my best not to think about it,” Terra says. He looks like he’s about to pulverize something with his fists, his breath building rage the more he exhales. “It’s like he’s mocking me.”

He shuts the book, _slams _it on the Master’s old mahogany desk, shaking the glasses, shuffling the statuettes, making the pens roll off the counter, in a deafening collision. 

It’s so loud that Aqua nearly takes a step back, like she’s preparing for an attack, but she keeps still. Makes sure the food in the stray is still in order. 

Terra sometimes doesn’t know his own strength. His hand covers his face, and she hears soft, dry sobs. He walks himself to the window, and leans on it. If he needs a breath of fresh air, he doesn’t let himself have it, rubbing the back of his head, near the nape of his neck.

That’s where he has streaks of white hair. She often catches him looking into the mirror at them, but telling him that he wears it well doesn’t comfort him much.

She gently places the tray on the coffee table, careful not to make any noise as though it would trigger another explosion.

Ignoring the mess on the Master’s desk, she opens the book. Of course he’d get this mad, her own face is cold.

A photo album. The pages in front of her open to the Master in his youth - they’ve _never _seen a photo of him this young. Master was always a private man, and seldom spoke of the friends he had or the shenanigans he pulled (if he ever did, it’s hard to think of him as mischievous). 

At some point, they understood that the friend Eraqus held dearest was indeed Xehanort, but this is different. There is one photo, sepia-toned, with the young Master giving a toothy smile to the camera next to a happy, darker-skinned boy with pure white hair. Judging from it, Xehanort doesn’t look like someone who wanted to harm kids or murder their father-figure.

Aqua can only stare for so long, shutting the book (very quietly). 

Terra keeps to the window, watching dark clouds looming over the horizon. His shoulders are hunched over, and he’s grabbing one bicep like he’s doing a poor job of comforting himself.

“I’ll take care of it,” Aqua says.

It wakes him up from his stupor, and he immediately turns back to the desk, rubbing a headache from his forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out for the photo album. “I should be the one to-”

She pulls it away from his grasp. “No, I can handle it-”

“I found it. My responsibility.”

“I’ll fight you for it.” She smirks - it’s a tired smirk from a tired young Master, who’s been through this hurricane of emotions too many times to count, so the best defense is a little joke just to see the end of the storm. 

One of his palms leans on the desk, the other on his hip. His smile is just as exhausted. “You’ll fight me for it?”

“A duel, winner takes the book.”

“Or,” he drawls out, “I can suck it up and not get upset over something so stupid.” His hand extends again, asking for it. 

She doesn’t know who he’s kidding. If teasing him doesn’t make him genuinely smile, then no amount of self-sabotage is going to make it any better for him. His eyes are puffy and deep, from crying, from lack of sleep, from too many mornings where he finds it hard to get up. He needs a break. 

“Like I said, I will take care of it,” she repeats, which a pinch of authority to her voice. “Master’s orders.”

Relief flashes in his eyes before they trade for guilt. But he accepts, nodding off whatever intrusive thoughts going through his mind right now. “You are the Master.” He bows casually, before taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

He’s grateful she’s doing this for him. She feels it in the strength of his grip, in the lingering of his lips over her knuckles before he rests his forehead on them. 

* * *

The attic in the eastern tower is a ghost town.

Colors splash on the wooden floor from the sunlight beaming through the stained glass window, and it creaks when she steps. There are a lot of artifacts here: ugly statues, old furniture draped in sheets, locked chests with unknown wonders. They used to sneak up here when they first acquired Keyblades to see if they can use the magic to unlock them. It never worked. 

They started a chest of their own for some of the Master’s belongings - the ones they still have sentimental attachment to. It’s a hard balance - Terra is really indecisive about which things to get rid of while Ventus would rather not deal with it at all and has procrastinated in cleaning out. Aqua has really been the one to do the proactive thing, to make the castle like new so they wouldn’t be so haunted by memories.

She finds a wooden stool and takes a seat. It really isn’t healthy for her to take a peek, but it sits there on her lap - a literal diary of the Master’s life. 

The cover is made out of an ornate dark leather, in peak physical condition, but not because the Master neglected it. No, if it was something he didn’t need, he would have tossed it away, not keep it in his office. The book is in stunning condition because he treasured it.

Aqua opens the book and peers into his childhood. She doesn’t remember him smiling so much, and the sight of it pulls her into a smile - Eraqus used to have such a round, baby-like face, it’s almost like she’s looking at a different person. 

Then there is Xehanort, with an ambitious grin and proud attitude, like he knows he looks good in photos. Aqua almost gets the feeling that even though he looks at the camera, he’s really looking far away, like he’s always dreaming of something else. Terra often does the same. 

Most of the photos are of both of them: some are candid, catching them in mid-laughter and many are portraits in their uniforms through the years, as if their own Master commanded them to look serious. 

It’s eerie, though. Here, they are captured playing chess together, on the _same _chess board the Master used to teach the three of them. Here, they are fishing at the _same _river she and Terra would hike to. Here, skinning a snake, when the Master took plenty of time to teach all of them these _same _survival skills. No matter what they have done with the Master, he’s done it with Xehanort first.

Which isn’t fair, they have loved Eraqus far more than Xehanort was ever capable of feeling.

Further into the pages, things get more serious. They grow up to be adults, posing for photos in handshakes like they are officiating their success as Keyblade Masters. That youthful spunk within Eraqus is gone, like the books have tired him out too much. Xehanort is distant, eyes out the window or in a book, mind somewhere else, like nothing will stop him anymore.

Then time skips, as though the Master stopped taking pictures for several years. She flips onto the next page and these photos are now in color, albeit a little faded. 

Eraqus at least smiles again, now with a fresh scar on his face, holding a brimming six-year-old Terra in his arms, like father and son. 

She’s forgotten what Terra looked like when he was little: cheeks round, eyes huge, toothy grin uninhibited. Her own baby cheeks are even rounder, like she has a ball for a face, and suddenly the album is full of photos of her and Terra, playing in the dirt, opening birthday presents, taking baths together. 

There’s a particular one she remembers: her seventh birthday, and a nine-year-old Terra is feeding her a handful of cake. That’s right, he had always taken her in like something that needed to be taken care of.

Now it’s a timeline of Eraqus the proud father, with photos of his star students playing chess, on hikes, learning to hunt, sparring. She remembers some of them, especially the ones where Eraqus wanted to make them more formal, giving them proper Keybearer robes and telling them, for the fifth time, to _Stop fooling around and please gaze at the camera with a professional expression. _Those robes were ugly - she’s glad they can choose to make their own uniforms. 

Now Ventus comes into play, finger-painting after he first arrived to the Land of Departure, when he was still sick, and brimming at the lens and making stupid faces with Terra. She never thought that the Master would have found these amusing but here they are. 

She stops at one with the three of them - another official portrait, his pupils standing formally at the front steps to the castle. Ventus at the front and lower step, with Terra’s hand on his right shoulder and Aqua’s on his left. This was taken weeks before the Mark of Mastery, and it’s the last photo on the album.

Wait a moment, there’s one more - a candid taken at the same moment, like a behind-the-scenes look. Ventus has cracked some joke because he’s lurched forward, holding his stomach. Aqua holds her head backward, her mouth open in laughter. And then there is Terra - it’s the _way _Terra is looking at Aqua in this photo. The camera knows in on his secret, how pleased he is that she’s happy, how adoring he is of her teeth and her squinted eyes. It takes her back to the one where he’s feeding her cake - he’s always loved her, for years. 

When Aqua gets to the end, she’s witnessed two different lives, immortalized. 

That’s what they all need, to immortalize him. There’s plenty of good photos to choose from. She focuses mainly on the ones that include all four of them, ones that are of the Master only, looking polished, looking regal, looking as hardcore as they know him to be with hard stares in his eyes but a gentle smile behind his mustache. 

Then there are the youthful ones… definitely not any with Xehanort. She almost has an inkling to cut Xehanort out of them, but that doesn’t seem right. His past made Master Eraqus the man he died as, and ritualizing it like it never happened is disrespectful to his memory. It leaves her with slim pickings for his youth, but there are a couple - even one with him wearing a smile as big as Ven’s. 

Now she has a nice stack of pictures in her hand, ready to finally close the book. Her throat by this point is dry and her heart hurts, but she keeps pushing the feeling away because it’s useless to her. 

The album will rest in this chest among other artifacts. Aqua cannot tell a single story behind any of these other objects from Masters of the past, and she wishes she remembers what Eraqus had to say about them - they’re now nameless junk, with all sentimentality attached to them gone. But it will be the same for him now, right? For all of them? 

One day, the present will be a passing memory, just like everything else in this room, locked away, without a story to tell future Keyblade Masters who will never hear of Master Eraqus.

They’ll read boring history lessons of Xehanort’s dictatorship, and look at him as some blip in a bunch of words on a page. 

Terra, Aqua, and Ventus may be the same, passing names in a book that might cover the second Keyblade War, if they are even mentioned at all. 

But it’s better this way, carefully laying the photo album in the chest on top of other dusty books and fastening it tight. She has to keep the past where it belongs. 

* * *

She’s put each photo into its own simple, wooden frame. They look more elegant this way. “We can hang them around the castle,” she says.

The picture of Terra feeding her birthday cake relieves him, almost like it erases every dark memory he has, and lets him start anew. He holds it in his hands. “I remember this,” he says, stealing glances at her. “You’ve barely changed.”

It almost sounds like he’s about to pinch her cheeks. She smacks his arm. “I have ones of the Master, too.”

Ven’s favorite is a photo of a younger Eraqus, sitting on a windowsill with half a chessboard in the shot. He lifts it next to his own face, like he’s comparing the two of them. “He smiles like me, don’t you think?”

Terra prefers an older portrait, with the Master looking stern at something off-camera, almost like he was instructed to do so by the photographer. Despite how serious it is, it makes Terra smile. “This is how I remember him.”

They don’t talk much about the rest, the ones she put away. Terra doesn’t ask, and Ventus is oblivious. She _wants _to talk about them - she wants to let go of the weight that is too heavy in her chest, it’s already sinking into her stomach. But she holds her breath instead of vomiting, because to make them frown would make her feel worse.

She feels a gentle rub on the sway of her back, Terra giving her a silent acknowledgement of comfort as he sorts through more frames. 

The photos make them happy, and that justifies everything.

* * *

She keeps for herself the candid portrait of the three of them and places it on her vanity, studying it. Ventus and Aqua enjoying themselves, oblivious to the fact that Terra is realizing he is in love. 

It’s time to retire for the night. A storm swirls outside her window, knocking pelts of rain against the glass, making the night darker than it really should be. She’s brushing her hair so many times, she’s lucky she hasn’t balded herself - it’s not like she’s doing it on purpose. She’s just somewhere else.

They should all do another portrait, the three of them starting a new life together. Maybe in the exact same spot, on the steps in front of the castle. They’ll have to ask someone else to take it for them.

Suddenly she realizes that she never went to look for the old camera. She should.

Suddenly she realizes that she doesn’t have a picture of the Master here, but should she, in the very bedroom she shares with Terra?

Suddenly she wonders if maybe she should keep a photo of him in her dresser, to take out when she feels too alone to bother Terra about it. 

She’s sure the Master wouldn’t mind and suddenly she realizes that she should ask him for his blessing but she never will be able to, and she _remembers _they’ll never play chess again, and they’ll never go fishing with him again.

Aqua has spent quite some time being numb to it all, and she thought she left that apathy behind in the Realm of Darkness.

The rain pours in two places, one cold against her window and the other warm on her cheek, and the last thing she wants to deal with right now is Terra walking in on her like this. 

So Master Aqua runs, down dark hallways so she wouldn’t be easily caught, out the back exit of the castle, into the onslaught of rainwater, through the gardens, out in the fields where tall lanterns only light some of the way. 

She stands under one of them, a halo of light on the ground, like a barrier around her feet against the shadows that turn the grass black. Not that it would protect her from anything.

The rain is _freezing_, as is all mountain rain, forcing her to shiver until it hurts and the pain seeps into her bones.

But it’s freeing to feel pain like this, so remarkably different than the gut-wrenching cavity that crying carves out of her. It wakes her up from her mind, which by itself is like a cage sometimes, opening the door for her to remember that there’s more to life than sobbing. 

It thunders, and it freaks her out - this is a sign that things have become quite dangerous on the mountain, but at least the threat against her life is nothing like twelve years of fighting Heartless. 

She runs, not back home but towards the caves, where it’s even colder so she can hear it downpour and hear her shivering breath and feel how vulnerable she is in the wild. It almost makes her heart warm even though goosebumps cover her skin. At least she won’t get struck by lightning here.

Eventually her hands go numb, not responding very well when she rubs them together, but this is still preferable than crying.

“Aqua?”

A cloaked figure approaches the cave, his hood up so it hides his face and the black leather drags all the way down to his shoes. His hand keeps his balance as he leans into the entrance, bent over to peer inside because it’s so hard to see.

“Terra.” She has to yell, the rain is so loud.

He now has reason to step inside, pulling the hood off. Of course he doesn’t have an umbrella with him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and there’s so many words to that question. _Why didn’t you bundle yourself up first, you’re so cold, you poor thing, are you ok?_

Her breath hitches and her whole body by now is numb, giving up its fight against the frigidity and slowly accepting. “I just-”

He steps closer and she can finally see his eyes - too dark to look blue, but they’re soft at least. 

“I came out here to feel alive,” she says. 

“Come here.” He unzips his large cloak and opens it up, letting her grab him around the waist so he can cover her with him.

Leather is a miracle, a powerful material that insulates the heat and it’s all his, his breath behind his chest and his smell. Terra has been loving long black coats and jackets ever since they reunited, but she doesn’t complain about his new fashion sense. It looks good on him. 

He holds her tightly and he shivers, too, from her touch, cursing slightly in her hair like he just _can’t believe_ but he doesn’t grumble about how drenched she is. 

“You know what makes me feel alive?” he asks.

A gentle hand grazes her chin and lifts her up for a kiss, warm and so wet they might as well be kissing underwater. But it speaks of understanding, like she doesn’t have to explain herself and he knows there will be crazier days than usual.

He lets go, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “A hot bath for the both of us,” he says like that’s his real answer.

Sometimes she needs to let go, let him hold her up, and she knows this but she hates losing control. It’s something he nags her about all the time. She leans into his touch. “With lavender oil?”

“As much as you want.”

She’ll let go by letting him guide her back home even though it’s risky. They wait until the thunder is farther away but leave quickly enough before the downpour causes flooding. They have to waddle because they’re huddled in his cloak but it makes her laugh. It makes her feel like there’s a life worth living. 

She’ll let go when they’re in the tub together, suds and flowery scents and petals skating the water, the steam rising up to her nostrils. Relaxation travels up her body, starting with her toes to her neck, and her mind finally lets her be. 

She’ll let go when he brushes her hair and leaves kisses on her shoulders. To live is really about the warmth, when the bad days end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of two fics I put up for today's prompts, the other is a Dark Terraqua / Terraquanort / Terranort x Anti-Aqua snippet for a new WIP that I'm working on! You can read that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707355).


	7. are you still there?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to sort through Eraqus’ things. There’s little they know of their late Master, but they find letters - addressed to them.
> 
> For the Quote/Free Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY DONE. Thank you all so much for participating in Terraqua Week, and for reading and commenting on this. This entire project has been one of the greatest challenges for several reasons, and I'm so relieved to finally get it all done. 
> 
> The title for this fic is from Lindsey Stirling and Amy Lee's "Love Goes On and On." This album came out the literal day before I had to turn in my Terraqua Zine piece and it's the most Terraqua song I had ever heard. I didn't have the time to get inspired from it for that piece, because it was so fitting, but I think it fits everything about them so. <3
> 
> The quote that inspired this piece is Jim Hopper's letter from the Stranger Things 3 finale, written by the Duffer Brothers. I'll put that letter up at the end notes.

It is weird going back - it’s like they have their house again but not their home. 

They clean up to find some closure - if they stall, if they leave the Master’s things alone, they’ll dread having to do it and there he will linger, like a one-ton weight that they’d have to drag by their ankles. It hurts but it’s necessary, like amputating a limb beyond help before the rest dies with it. They do it start a new chapter, to let the Master move on to the next life, so they can move on with theirs. 

In Aqua’s opinion, it’s horrible, but she continues to sort through private books that he kept in his office to see if they’re of any use. Every time there’s an artifact that reminds her of a specific memory, she cries, and Terra wishes he could wipe them away. It makes him feel helpless - it’s been twelve years in darkness and he still hasn’t found the courage to let her know just how _much_ he cares.

For Ventus, it’s a new wondrous adventure, like finding out the person he thought he knew for so long is actually someone different. For the years he thought that Eraqus was as stern and cold as a statue, he discovers an old stack of childish finger-paintings that prove him wrong. Why the Master was so secretive, they’ll never know, but it’s something Ven takes with pride. At least it distracts him from making snarky remarks about Terra’s feelings.

To Terra, he’s reliving an entire lifetime in a matter of minutes and where does life fly to when it flies by? It’s crazy to think that a living person used to have _things_ until he’s forced to start claiming which he should take as his.

Of course, there have been a lot of shared tears, and they all agree to take a break for dinner when a loud _thud_ \- like a bookshelf falling over - makes Terra jump. 

Ventus whips around first, a Keyblade in his anxious hand. “What happened?”

It was Aqua, the shelf right in front of her now opened - a secret panel in the wall.

Terra huddles close, a smirk threatening to take his face. “I shouldn’t be surprised the Master had secret stashes.”

Huddled in this cubby hole are journals, some in better condition whereas others are so old, their pages have been stained with exposure. 

“The Master kept diaries?” Ven asks. 

“He did,” Terra answers, letting Aqua take the first grab. “I remember writing in one of them actually… he only writes when he’s upset about something and wants to vent. I walked in on him one day and he let me sit on his lap and have at it.”

“When was that?” Aqua asks, quickly sifting through pages of one before going through another. “It looks like he had a lot to be upset about.”

“Definitely before you came along, but I don’t remember why he was sad that specific night. I don’t think he ever told me.”

“So…” Ventus dawdles, his hands in his pockets. “Do we read them or trash them?”

“Trashing them feels wrong,” she says.

“Reading them feels wrong, too,” Terra says. 

“But,” Aqua hesitates, taking another. “This is something he left behind, like a legacy.”

“Of his most secretive of secret thoughts,” Ventus agrees, nudging Terra on the elbow. 

Aqua holds up one of the newer journals. “His last one… there’s blank pages.” 

They all hold a pregnant breath. In their hands are the Master’s final concerns before he was taken forever, his last rites.

She flips through anyway, and Terra nearly objects because… well, why hurt himself by reading what the Master thought of him before the Mark of Mastery? He failed, after all. 

Some folded pages come out of the journal - she didn’t rip them out, they were already wedged in there. “And some extra,” she says. 

Ventus helps himself to the journal, opening to the first page. The Master always had such beautiful handwriting, as though calligraphy was his art of choice.

“They’re to us,” she says when she opens the folded pages, reading the dates. “Letters. He wrote them while he was waiting for us to come home.”

It suddenly hits them, and Ventus slams the journal tight like he’s violated a boundary. 

While he waited for them in those long months to come home, before the possession, the fall to darkness, the sleep...

They take turns looking at each other, two of them passing asking glances at Aqua to see if she would approve. And Aqua looks at Terra to see if he would approve. 

“If he was alive, he’d never show them to us,” Terra says, “but sure. Let’s.”

“He probably wouldn’t mind,” she shrugs. “The Master didn’t like to dwell on something trivial.”

Ventus is the first to jump onto the loveseat in the middle of the office, over a soft rug in front of the fireplace, leaving Terra and Aqua to take the couch across. 

“Aqua should read them out loud,” Ventus says, making himself comfortable, like he’s excited to find out more about his late father... like he’s not anticipating it’s going to make him cry. He’ll probably learn the hard way. “She’s a great storyteller.”

It’s not really fair to put that burden on Aqua, to read the Master’s words on behalf of all of them, but she smiles, accepting it. “Only if everyone is okay with it.”

She’s really talking about Terra in this case, looking over her shoulder to see if he’d object again. He doesn’t.

“Right.” She takes a deep breath. “The first one is for Ven.”

It’s Ven’s turn to take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Terra holds his own, his arms crossed. It may be for Ven, but… it’s like he’ll hear the Master’s voice again, even if it’s Aqua who’s reading it.

It takes a few more moments before Aqua prepares herself to read - she’s probably thinking the same thing. He holds her shoulder and it wakes her up from her stupor. Finally, she starts. 

_My cherished Ven,_

_I cannot deny the horror I felt when I watched you drift away into the sky, chasing a fate I know in my heart will do nothing but gravely harm you. I have always been aware that there is only so much I can do to protect you. I have always been aware that the life you have lived here was unfair to you, and I can only hope that you understand it was for your protection. If I may be true, I am frightened - of what you will discover, of whether you would survive it. Maybe even of your own power._

_You must know, Ven, that darkness speaks. It will tell you stories meant to horrify you and meant to tempt you down a path where it will take advantage of your innocence. Part of me feels foolish, and here I realize what I could have done better to prepare you. You have a strong heart, Ven, and a brilliant soul, a powerful, ancient light that has many destinies intertwined with it. It is not something I fully comprehend, and there have been many precepts that I have researched into the matter, some that I cannot decipher. _

_It is because of this that I do not have any answers that you seek, and thus I assume you will not come to me for them. I can vow there will be a time for you to learn about yourself, and I simply want you prepared with the proper knowledge to not only protect yourself, but to protect the worlds that you have the responsibility over, as Keyblade Wielder. You are practical and efficient, and you already know that your weapon is precious and cannot be misused. I can only pray that you come home and sleep safely.   
_

There are sniffles, and they belong to Ven. She hands over the letter and he takes a readthrough, a small smile coming to his face.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he says, his voice shaking but he’s trying hard to find comfort. “The Master is kind of giving me the blessing to leave… without really doing it.”

They haven’t set a date for when he’ll leave - it’s clear there are many lingering questions about Ven’s past, with Chirithy’s sudden appearance only making it more necessary to answer them. He’s talked about traveling, seeking out answers, and while Terra and Aqua think Ven should become Master first before setting off on his own journey, the final decision ultimately lies with him. 

Either way, with Chirithy, he won’t be alone.

“So will you leave?” Aqua asks. There are silent tears traveling down her cheeks. It’s already so hard on her. 

When she notices Terra staring, she actually inches closer, looking for his hand. Immediately, without even thinking about it, Terra leans forward and wipes them off her face, his other hand on her back.

He chooses to ignore all the knowing glances Ven is throwing at him. 

“Maybe,” Ven says, like he hasn’t been thinking about making teases towards Terra. “I feel like this advice still sticks, you know?” He folds the page. “When I do, I want to take this with me. But… _precepts_? There are actually books that can help me?”

“You never know, there could be another hiding place with more stuff,” Terra says, asking Aqua with his eyes if she’s okay. She nods. 

“In here?” Ven looks around.

“Or somewhere in the castle.”

“That’s gonna take forever to find,” he whines. 

“We’ll help you find it. In the meantime,” Aqua says, holding up the next letter. “This one is for me.” Her voice cracks. “I’ll be okay though,” she says to Terra before he has a chance to ask. 

_My esteemed Aqua,_

_There is a certain cruelty to life about becoming older: with age comes conviction, and it is merely a defense against confusion, the flux of emotions that will all storm together when facing a difficult problem. I am speaking of the wave of mixed feelings that came with ordering you to chase after your friends, your closest comrades. I have conviction in my belief that it was the right thing to do - this entire ordeal was riddled of something terribly sinister that I have yet to solve. I fear for you, for my other students, for what is at stake._

_At the same time, I know you. You are and will always be the element that holds this family together. I have always been impressed by your light, by your determination, and by your loyalty to your calling. And yet, you are the one most guided by the bond you share with your peers, and this is exactly why I know of no one else who has a light as powerful as yours. Your bond to them will be their saving grace, I must believe in that. But I feel I may have burdened you with a responsibility that would put these elements at war with each other, that I have asked you to put your beliefs at conflict._

_I have named you Master because I believe you have the strength to see it through. I believe you have the wisdom to face darkness in its true essence and not break. Every day that passes by that I do not see either of you home yet, I get more worried. Still, I can find peace knowing you are there to look out for our family. You are still so young, the youngest Master in history, and there is a sense of guilt in knowing I have given you a burden when you should be experiencing more carefree days. I expect that you will not have to carry this burden all by yourself for long, and that you will be able to share the weight with Terra once he is ready. Until that happens, there is no one more suited to keep us safe. If you should ever falter, and I would be ignorant in assuming you would never, know to never lose faith. I have the utmost faith in you.   
_

The letter shakes in her hands. 

“I need a moment,” she says, her voice cracking. Her tears get buried in her fingers as she covers her face to let it all go. 

Terra brings his arm around her, going through her hair with his fingers. He’s actually always wanted to do this, but not _like_ this, not while she’s crying. 

“He’s right you know,” he whispers in her ear. “You are the glue that keeps us together.”

Ven goes to sit on her other side, his head leaning on her arm, his hands around her elbow. “Yeah, you’re the strongest person I know.” 

She nods to their words, sniffling her voice out. “I wish I had this with me that entire time,” she says, “when I walked the Realm of Darkness.” She smiles. “It would have been nice to read, k- keep me company.”

Aqua has suffered for so long and she’s still so hard on herself. “You did good,” Terra says. 

“Far better than either of us,” Ventus adds in.

Her fingers find themselves intertwined with Terra’s, and she rolls her lips inward to accept their words of encouragement. 

“Thank you.”

She’s saying it to them, and she’s saying it to the Master. They take a moment in silence for the Master, but mostly for her sake. Aqua deserves to be listened to.

Then she pats Terra’s lap. “Your turn,” she says with a little pep, like she’s grateful that she’s over the most harrowing experience ever.

“My turn,” he grumbles, instantly closing in, leaning into the backrest because he at least knows (unlike Ven) that he will definitely cry.

_My dearest Terra,_

_I have never been truthful with you, and there are certain ethical boundaries as to why. Part of me wishes I was, to let you know why it is I expect so much out of you. You have saved my life - the moment I found you, I was still suffering certain experiences that have left me heavy and cold. Raising you had given me new purpose, and I took that responsibility as though it was breath. I am and will always be so proud of you, of how you have grown and of your gentle heart. You are meant to accomplish great things, and I believe you will go far. _

_There have been times as of late where I felt I could not reach you, however, when I did not have the right words to guide you. I see in your eyes your desperate need to please, to succeed. I have been guilt-ridden with failing you on the Mark of Mastery, with making you feel like you are not worthy enough. You are worthy, and one day you will see your dream realized. But there are still things your joyful, ambitious heart needs to understand. You become solemn far too quickly, and with such a powerful weapon in your hands, you will need to still that crying heart when the worst comes to haunt you - and it will, in due time. Life will always find a way to challenge and harm you, and I need to see you prepared. I want you to succeed._

_I meant what I said. You mustn’t be afraid of losing - - _

Tears are trickling down his cheeks; they are warm before they get cold, like the exposure frightens them. The words are what he needs to hear and yet some of them he still has trouble accepting.

It’s silent now, though.

Aqua is biting her lip, a smile betraying her, and Ven looks over her shoulder when he realizes she’s not continuing.

“Are you not going to finish?” Terra asks, and he feels he has the right to be annoyed.

She brings the letter to her mouth. “You sure?”

“Why are you asking?”

She chuckles behind her hand. “Okay.”

_I meant what I said. You mustn’t be afraid of losing, especially with the path I have seen you choose for yourself. I understand how devastating it is to lose to Aqua, how you hold her in such high esteem, and how terrifying it is to ponder the possibility of losing her as well. I understand more than you realize why you are obsessed with holding yourself up to her, and why you need her to do the same for you. It is not a conversation I take pride in holding with either of you - the path of the Keyblade leaves little in the way for partnerships, as it can be such a heavy strain. But if I had to give my honest opinion, I can agree that Aqua is a wonderful choice for a mate. If this dream of yours shall be realized, I offer two threads of advice: one, let her light guide you. A partnership is a mind of two, and when you find yourself struggling, you have to let her in. Two, it is now more vitally important that you understand the nature of your own light, so that you can do the same for her when she needs you. You will need to be her guardian in the worst of times, something I know you are more than capable of doing despite your failure in the exam._

_I would only ask one favor: please do not exhibit any scandalous or inappropriate behavior in the hallways if something were to come about it.   
_

Again, she brings the letter to her face to hide her sputtering chuckles.

Ven looks across her at Terra, his eyes wide like he’s just witnessed… well, a scandal.

“You just got outed,” he says.

Aqua scoffs, her tears still finding their way out and it’s amazing how she can express two different emotions at once. “So you knew about this.”

Terra wants to kill him.

Ven holds his hands up in surrender, getting up from the couch and walking to the door. “Whatever I say doesn’t matter. Terra’s still busted.”

“Ven,” Terra warns.

“Caught red-handed.”

“_Ven_.”

“B-U-S-T-E-D.” Now he’s at the door, giving a questioning smirk like he’s sorry, before storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. 

Terra doesn’t know what’s stronger now - the grief or the awkwardness making itself comfortable in the room.

“It was sweet,” Aqua says of the letter.

“Thanks…?”

She chortles, bringing a hand to her heart. 

Honestly, in normal times, they’d probably still be physically close. If he is to try now, though, there’s all sorts of implications that he doesn’t have an excuse for anymore.

She folds the letter for him before handing it over. “Here is your… um...”

“Love advice?” He’s just trying to be funny, to lighten the mood and now he’s probably made it worse.

At least she’s laughing, but she’s speechless. “Ah, yeah.”

Terra fiddles with it in his hands, careful not to crease it. This is why they shouldn’t pry into private thoughts. 

“How are you-?” he asks.

“Feeling?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually better.” She sighs. “I feel a huge load off my shoulders.”

“Really?” He feels like he’s been slapped by an avalanche, or he’s about to drown in one - it’s like someone has him by the throat, and he really hates not knowing what Aqua thinks of all this. 

She takes her own letter, gently folding it and he’s sure that she’ll keep it safe in a box in her room. “I do.” She stands up, hesitating with every step like there’s something she wants to say.

At least there aren’t any more tears. He never expected the Master of all people would put a stop to that.

“That’s good,” he says, ready for the worst.

“Terra,” she says, turning to face him when she gets to the door. “We should have dinner, just for the two of us.”

His heart skips a beat, and if it continues to do that, then this is the worst time to die. “I’d love that,” he says and immediately regrets it. That’s the second time he used “_Love_” and he really shouldn’t, not this early.

It makes her laugh nervously, and she bites her lip to control it but she’s doing a terrible job. “Good.” 

She walks backward into the door and then apologizes, extremely embarrassed. 

He’s never seen Master Aqua like this, and she rejects his help when he gets up and walks over to see if she’s okay. It makes him feel better knowing he’s not the only one this nervous.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” she asks, her hand on the knob. 

He has to clear his throat, because his “_Yes_” is too scared to come out. “Count on it.”

She bites her lip again and he has to remember to tell her how cute it is. When it’s more appropriate. There’s still so much pain to go through, but maybe they can put a pause on that? 

“Okay,” she whispers, unsure of whether to say something else before she finally laughs again and goes through the door.

It’s quiet when she’s gone, and if he lingers for too long she’ll just come back to tell him that it’s unhealthy to be alone in the Master’s office. But it’s nice for now - he thinks of the letter, thinks of it in the Master's voice as if he is there, saying those words. It isn't quiet at all. It almost feels like he has a father again, rooting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jim Hopper's letter:**
> 
> “_There's something I've been wanting to talk to you both about. I know this is a difficult conversation, but I care about you both very much. And I know that you care about each other very much, and that's why it's important that we set these boundaries moving forward so we can build an environment where we all feel comfortable, trusted, and open to sharing our feelings_.
> 
> _Jesus. The truth is, for so long I'd forgotten what those even were. I've been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I left some Eggos out in the woods and you came into my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. But lately, I guess I've been feeling distant from you. Like you're pulling away from me or something. I miss playing board games every night, making triple decker Eggo extravaganzas at sunrise, watching Westerns together before we doze off.But I know you're getting older, growing, changing. I guess, if I'm being really honest, that's what scares me. I don't want things to change. So I think maybe that's why I came in here, to try and make stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were. But I know that's naive. It's just not how life works. It's moving, always moving, whether you like it or not. And yeah, sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's sad. And sometimes, it's surprising. Happy_.
> 
> _So you know what? Keep on growing up kid. Don't let me stop you. Make mistakes, learn from 'em. When life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. The hurt is good. It means you're out of that cave. But, please, if you don't mind, for the sake of your poor old dad, keep the door open three inches_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I'm so so sorry that these won't be at the same quality I'd normally like. I did all of these in a week but I figured I'd relax and just have fun with them - I hope you have fun with them too!!
> 
> You can find me at [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mimiplaysgames1) and over at [Tumblr!](https://mimiplaysgames.tumblr.com/)


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